ONE  OF   THE    MULTITUDE 


ONE   OF  THE 
MULTITUDE 


BY 

GEORGE  ACORN 
WITH  INTRODUCTION 
BY  ARTHUR  C.  BENSON 


NEW   YORK 
DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 

MCMXII 


Printed  in  England 


The  child,  the  seed,  the  grain  of  corn, 

The  acorn  on  the  hill  ; 
Each  for  some  separate  end  is  born 

In  season  fit, — and  still 
Each  must  in  strength  arise  to  work 

The  Almighty  will. 

R.  L.  STEVENSON. 


2134081 


TO 

MY  FRIEND  X  ... 

AT   WHOSE    SUGGESTION    I    HAVE 
WRITTEN   THIS   BOOK 

Dear  X  .  .  . 

A  year  has  passed  since  you  asked  me  to  write  some  of 
my  life,  and  spoke  of  the  interest  that  would  attach  to  any 
absolutely  true  revealing  of  a  human  soul. 
Here  it  is. 

I  have  called  it  "  ONE  OF  THE  MULTITUDE," 
but  it  is  probably  one  of  many  such; — isolated  souls 
struggling  in  obedience  to  inner  promptings,  which  are  at 
first  thought  a  nuisance,  and  later  recognized  as  some  divine 
mystery  or  miracle. 

All  is  literally  true,  nothing  assumed  but  names. 
The  book  is  but  an  imperfect  record, — a  poor  thing, 
maybe,  but  "  One's "  own ;  and  perhaps  the  public  will 
recognize  that  experiences  LIVED,  and  written  down 
however  poorly,  are  of  more  real  value  and  interest  than 
imaginary  fictions  beautifully  disguised. 

Yours  sincerely, 

GEORGE  ACORN. 


INTRODUCTION 

I  HAVE  been  asked  to  say  a  few  words  to 
introduce  this  book,  and  I  do  it  very  gladly, 
although  the  author  of  it  is  not  personally 
known  to  me.  The  reason  why  I  am  glad,  and 
more  than  glad,  to  do  it,  is  because  the  book  is 
a  piece  of  the  authentic  stuff  of  life.  I  have 
reason  to  believe,  and  indeed  to  know,  that  the 
record  is  literally  and  exactly  true,  and  thus  it  is 
valuable  for  many  reasons.  It  would  be  easy 
enough  for  those  who  have  not  experienced  and 
shared  in  a  life  like  this — except  perhaps  in  a 
passing  mood  of  sympathetic  experiment — to 
construct  a  picturesque  and  melodramatic 
tragedy  or  comedy  on  such  lines.  I  can 
imagine  a  young  and  generous  man,  who  had 
thrown  himself  into  the  task  of  studying  the 
social  problem  of  the  life  of  the  poor  in  a  great 
town,  being  able  to  construct  a  salient  picture 
out  of  the  things  that  he  had  heard  and  seen  in 


x  INTRODUCTION 

such  regions.  But  take  the  case  of  a  clergyman, 
or  a  worker  in  a  settlement,  or  an  independent 
philanthropist,  who  had  gone  in  and  out  of  such 
homes,  and  seen  the  awful  and  bewildering 
details  of  the  lowest  and  most  helpless  lives 
displayed  day  by  day  before  him.  Such  a  man 
might  produce  a  picture,  and  in  many  ways  a 
truthful  picture,  of  the  state  of  affairs.  But  his 
power  of  presenting  the  case  would  be  vitiated 
by  two  facts.  He  would,  in  the  first  place,  be 
in  the  position  of  one  who  was  studying  the 
problem  in  a  more  or  less  scientific  spirit.  He 
would  be  concerned  with  the  economic  causes 
of  such  conditions,  and  with  the  consideration 
of  possible  amendment  and  solution.  And,  in 
the  second  place,  such  a  man  would  not  be  one 
on  whom  the  urgent  features  of  the  problem 
would  be  vitally  and  actually  pressing  hour  by 
hour.  He  would  be  like  one  who  had  sallied 
out  from  a  stronghold  of  his  own,  a  stronghold 
to  which  he  could  return  for  rest  and  refresh- 
ment. He  would  have  a  background  of  cul- 
ture, of  religion,  of  companionship,  and  he 
would  be  as  an  explorer,  or  a  pioneer,  or  a 


INTRODUCTION  xi 

missionary.  His  heart  and  mind  might  be 
deeply  concerned  with  the  dreadful  mystery, 
the  inconceivable  entanglement  of  it  all;  but 
he  would  not  have  the  whole  horizon  of  his  life 
hopelessly  encumbered  with  difficulties  and 
obstacles,  and  appearing  at  once  narrow  and 
insurmountable. 

But  this  book  is  the  work  of  one  who  has 
gone  in  and  out  among  these  scenes,  who  has 
had  his  daily  bread  to  earn,  who  has  had  to  live 
and  work  and  sleep  in  surroundings  which 
menaced  all  peace  and  order  and  decency ;  and 
who,  however  ardently  and  passionately  he  may 
have  desired  to  escape  from  brutalizing  con- 
ditions into  a  world  of  settled  and  serene  life, 
into  intellectual  thoughts  and  fine  emotions — 
the  things  that  seemed  so  near  to  his  hand,  and 
yet  so  hopelessly  out  of  his  reach — yet  had  to 
feel  that  he  had  only  his  own  strength  and 
energies  to  depend  upon  for  any  conquest  he 
might  ultimately  achieve.  The  writer,  con- 
scious of  his  right  to  share  the  beautiful  and 
stainless  inheritance  of  the  outer  world,  had  to 
face  the  fact  that  he  could  not,  under  present 


xii  INTRODUCTION 

conditions,  claim  it  for  his  own,  but  must  fight 
his  way  stubbornly  to  the  light;  and  that  there 
must  be  little  dallying  by  the  way  with  leisurely 
and  even  inspiring  things,  until  he  had  earned, 
by  industry  and  temperance  and  enterprise,  the 
power  to  touch  and  taste  the  things  which  we 
are  optimistically  inclined  to  speak  of  as  being, 
in  our  democratic  age,  freely  offered  to  all. 

The  narrative  that  here  expands  itself  brings 
one  some  very  dark  and  troubled  thoughts; 
and  yet  withal  a  certain  definite  faith,  and 
even  a  hope  in  the  possible  realization,  after 
what  sad  and  protracted  interval  of  struggle  we 
cannot  know,  of  a  high  and  joyful  vision  of  the 
future. 

In  the  first  place,  the  thing  that  has  seemed 
to  me  wonderful  and  infinitely  encouraging  is 
the  fact  that  a  boy  brought  up  in  these  con- 
ditions, or  rather  struggling  up  like  a  flower  in 
a  tangle  of  weeds,  can  yet  preserve  and  main- 
tain a  real  and  deep  innocence  and  purity  of 
heart.  I  know  that  the  writer  had  often,  in  the 
workshop  and  in  the  street,  to  hear  talk  of  in- 
finite defilement  and  pollution.  We  need  not 


INTRODUCTION  xiii 

be  timidly  and  primly  refined  in  our  treatment 
of  such  things.  A  plainness  of  speech  on  sexual 
matters,   and   a  frank  realization  of  physical 
facts  and  processes,  is  not  in  the  least  incon- 
sistent with  real  purity  and  true  refinement. 
The  danger  is,  not  to  realize  these  things,  but 
to  dwell  upon  them  bestially  and  pruriently,  as 
the  vile  and  harmful  distractions  of  a  life  where 
there  is  little  to  distract  or  entertain.     To  be 
scandalized  by  grossness  is  a  mere  sentimental- 
ism;   and   the   frankness   of    speech   on  such 
matters,  which  prevails  among  people  who  live 
where  privacy  is  an  impossible  luxury,  may  be 
less  corrupting  than  the  hint,  the  innuendo,  the 
suggestive  glance  and  gesture  of  those  clad  in 
soft  raiment  and  familiar  with  the  houses  of  kings. 
But  the  blessed  fact  is  here,  that  purity  of 
heart  is  indeed  possible  under  such  conditions, 
in  rooms  where  boy  and  girl,  adult  and  child, 
are  herded  together  in  promiscuous  contact,  if 
only   the   thought  is   occupied  with   generous 
curiosities  and  more  fragrant  visions.     This  is 
the  first  thought,  and  it  is  deeply  moving  and 
encouraging. 


xiv  INTRODUCTION 

And  then  there  comes  a  second  thought 
treading  close  on  the  heels  of  the  first.  I  freely 
confess  that  I  have  little  knowledge  of  such 
conditions,  and  no  economic  training.  But  I 
discern,  or  seem  to  discern,  in  every  page  of 
this  book  that  the  real  problem  is  not  wholly  a 
material  one,  though  it  is  much  bound  up  with 
material  conditions. 

It  is  clear  from  this  book  that  it  is  not  ulti- 
mately money  that  makes  the  difference,  but 
something  far  removed  from  money.  Such 
problems  as  are  here  involved  cannot  be  solved 
by  a  mere  diffusion  of  wealth.  I  can  well 
understand  that  a  man,  sick  at  heart  at  the 
hideous  havoc  which  the  lack  just  of  the 
ordinary  means  of  life  may  work,  might  be 
tempted  to  think  that  only  by  a  rigorous  and 
widespread  equalization  of  our  resources  could 
anything  be  achieved.  I  can  understand  that 
one  like  the  writer  of  this  book,  thinking  of  the 
lives  of  useless,  lavish,  selfish,  wealthy  persons, 
dwelling  in  stately  houses,  with  all  the  markets 
of  the  world  ransacked  to  bring  them  delicacies 
of  food  and  drink,  with  the  comfort  of  art  and 


INTRODUCTION  xv 

music  and  literature  hardly  heeded,  except  as 
a  momentary  distraction,  with  elaborate  sport 
artificially  created  about  them — I  can  well  con- 
ceive that  such  thoughts  might  nurture  a  hope 
of  violent  and  ruthless  revolution. 

And  yet  the  book  makes  it  abundantly  clear 
that  even  wholesale  confiscation  would  do 
nothing,  or  nearly  nothing,  to  amend  these 
conditions.  Indeed,  that  such  an  equalization 
might  be  demanded  more  in  the  interests  of  the 
rich  than  in  the  interests  of  the  poor !  Too 
many  of  the  characters  here  depicted  would 
gain  nothing  but  increased  opportunities  for 
self-indulgence  from  such  a  change.  What  is 
the  use  of  leisure  to  men  and  women  who  have 
no  idea  how  to  employ  it?  Wealth  would  put 
a  varnish  of  money,  so  to  speak,  over  people 
who  have  no  aptitude  to  use  it. 

Moreover,  one  feels  that  if  all  the  boys  and 
young  men  whose  lives  are  here  touched  upon 
had  been  like  the  writer  of  the  book — he  will 
forgive  me  if  I  frankly  praise  his  purpose  and 
his  temperament — the  society  portrayed  could 
have  been  decent  and  good.  It  is  waste  and 


xvi  INTRODUCTION 

recklessness  and  self-indulgence  that  work  the 
mischief.  More  money  in  such  hands  would 
only  make  things  worse.  It  is  the  raising  of 
the  whole  type  that  is  desirable,  and,  one  ven- 
tures to  think,  ultimately  possible.  The  prob- 
lem is  not  how  to  organize  society  as  it  is,  but 
how  to  uplift  it;  how  to  give  all  opportunities 
for  orderly  life  and  security  and  honest  work; 
not  how  to  enable  the  greedy  and  unscrupulous 
to  be  a  little  more  idle. 

There  are  many  more  problems  suggested 
by  the  book — such,  for  instance,  as  how  to 
amend  the  careless  begetting  of  children 
— which  are  too  technical  to  discuss  here. 
Ami  one  is  beset,  too,  by  perplexity  as  to 
how,  by  what  machinery,  the  change  is  to  be 
produced. 

The  effects  of  a  University  Settlement  are 
here  gratefully  acknowledged.  But  though  one 
must  not  say  a  grudging  word  against  the  un- 
selfish and  high-spirited  labours  of  such  workers 
in  the  field,  I  cannot  help  feeling  that  the  value 
of  their  work  is  primarily,  so  to  speak,  scientific ; 
that  it  lies  rather  in  the  study  and  the  present- 


INTRODUCTION  xvii 

ment  of  such  problems,  and  the  leading  of 
careless  and  unimaginative  and  sheltered 
people  plainly  to  realize  what  the  stress  and 
urgency  of  the  whole  is.  The  amendment  of 
it  all  cannot  be  made  by  people  nurtured  under 
more  wholesome  and  fine  ideals  coming  forward, 
however  generously,  and  handing  out  such 
fragments  of  culture  and  religion  as  they  can 
share  with  broken  hearts  and  helpless  hands. 
It  must  grow  up  from  within,  in  its  own  way 
and  on  its  own  lines.  At  present  the  one  prac- 
tical hope  seems  to  lie  in  education ;  in  bringing 
children  at  an  impressionable  age  in  touch  with 
orderly  systems  and  interesting  ideas  and  finer 
purposes — and  in  touch,  too,  with  kindly  and 
self-restrained  and  honest  teachers,  who  can 
show  out  radiantly,  in  look  and  gesture  and 
word,  the  happiness  of  the  well-ordered  and 
peaceable  life.  There  may  be  countless  fail- 
ures, and  there  will  be.  A  child  preserved  for 
a  time  from  gross  and  hateful  influences  may 
be  whirled  off  its  feet  and  submerged  again. 
We  cannot,  perhaps,  mend  lives  of  which  the 
very  essence  is  impaired.  But  we  may  hope 


xviii  INTRODUCTION 

that  generation  after  generation  may  come  more 
swiftly  and  surely  to  the  light. 

There  is  much  more  that  I  could  say,  but  I 
will  not  stand  any  longer  between  the  story  and 
its  audience.  I  will  only  add  that  the  book,  in 
spite  of  its  sad  and  sordid  experiences,  leaves 
me  hopeful  and  encouraged;  deeply  conscious 
of  the  urgency  and  momentousness  of  the  prob- 
lem, but  with  a  firm  belief  that  the  enigma  is 
solving  itself,  and  that  the  surest  sign  of  this  is 
the  fact  that  such  a  life  as  is  here  described  can 
yet  pick  its  way  without  stain  through  the  mire, 
and  successfully  claim  its  share  in  the  best  and 
richest  inheritance  of  men — the  inheritance  of 
light  and  beauty  and  truth. 

ARTHUR  C.  BENSON. 


CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAGE 

I  "OUT    OF   THE    EVERYWHERE    INTO    A    SLUM"  I 

II  EARLY    EVENTS        .....  9 

in  THE  "STREET  ARAB"  ....  14 

IV  SCHOOL           .......  24 

V  "  DAVID   COPPERFIELD  "            ....  28 

VI  THE   TRAPPINGS    OF   WOE         ....  40 

VII  GAMES    AND   CREEDS        .....  47 

VIII  STAGE-STRUCK         .            .            .                        .            -53 

IX  THE   COMMON    ROUND    .....  63 

X  DEPTHS            .......  70 

XI  STILL   DEEPER         ...  77 

XII  SOME   NEIGHBOURS          .            .            .            .            .  8l 

XIII  THE   CALL   OF   SPRING    .            .            .            .  9 1 

XIV  MUSICAL         ...  -97 
XV  I    AM    LAUNCHED                ...                        .  106 

XVI  SOME   EMPLOYERS             .            .            .            .            .  Il8 

xvn  A  VERY  "DEAD  CERT"    ....  127 

XVIII  DORLAND    STREET   CHAPEL     .                                     .  140 

xix 


xx  CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAGE 

xix  THE  "INNER  SOCIAL  CIRCLE"      .        .         .     152 

XX  A    YOUNG   LADY 162 

XXI  MY   UNLOVED    FRIEND 171 

XXII  DISILLUSION    AND   A    "  NORATION  "  .  .       l8o 

XXIII  OUT   OF   WORK 1 90 

XXIV  OUR    INDUSTRIAL    "  SYSTEM  "...       2O2 

xxv  "ON  MY  OWN"    .        .         .        .        .        .213 

xxvi  "BUZZING"          ......     222 

XXVII  AT   LOW   EBB  ......       234 

XXVIII  THE   DWELLERS    BELOW  .  .  .  .241 

XXIX  THE   TOLL   OF   TURKEY    LANE  .  .  .       251 

xxx  "THE  LARK'S  ON  THE  WING"   .    .    .  261 

XXXI  GETTING   LODGINGS         .  .  .  .  .270 

XXXII  LEAVING   THE   NEST 278 

XXXIII  HEYDAY  ! 283 

XXXIV  HOME   ........       292 


CHAPTER  I 

'  OUT  OF  THE  EVERYWHERE  INTO  A  SLUM  ' 

I  WAS  sent  to  school  at  the  age  of  three, 
mainly,  I  think,  to  get  rid  of  me,  so  that  the 
cost  of  nursing  and  minding  me  should  be 
saved,  whilst  my  mother  went  out  to  work. 
Being,  I  suppose,  a  precocious  child,  I  learned 
to  read  and  write  at  so  early  an  age  that  I 
cannot  remember  ever  being  without  these 
accomplishments. 

My  father  and  mother  were  well-meaning 
people,  who  let  their  children  (I  was  the 
eldest)  follow  the  bent  of  their  own  desires, 
and  then  punished  them  severely  if  they  did 
wrong.  I  may  say,  then,  that  I  have  always, 
since  I  left  my  mother's  arms,  had  to  learn  for 
myself  what  was  right  and  proper.  My  father 
was  a  thick-set,  muscular  man,  strong  and 
silent,  who  said  but  little  and  meant  more  than 
he  said.  The  exception  was  when  he  was  in 


2        ONE   OF  THE    MULTITUDE 

drink,  which,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  occurred  very 
frequently.  The  Saturday  half-holiday  was 
always  used  by  him  in  travelling  from  one 
public-house  to  another  in  company  with  a 
number  of  shopmates,  who  dropped  out  one 
by  one  as  successive  hostelries  were  reached. 
Every  Saturday  at  tea-time  my  father  would 
come  home  morose  and  sullen,  would  eat  his 
meat-tea  eyeing  each  morsel  of  food  with 
drunken  gravity  as  he  hummed  snatches  of 
song  during  a  deceptive  gaiety.  Very  often  at 
tea  my  mother,  who  was  never  very  patient, 
would  ply  him  with  fierce  questions  and  taunts, 
to  which  my  father  would  reply  for  a  time, 
feebly  attempting  to  stem  the  torrent  of  my 
mother's  stinging  words — at  last  taking  offence, 
meeting  abuse  with  abuse  until  the  argument 
would  become  a  violent  quarrel.  Cups  or 
saucers  were  picked  up  from  the  table  and 
thrown  at  each  other;  then,  struggling  violently, 
they  would  throw  themselves  to  the  floor  and 
fight,  scratching  and  punching  like  wild  beasts, 
until  the  noise  brought  the  landlady  up  from 
down-stairs  to  separate  them  and  enjoin  peace. 


INTO    A    SLUM  3 

During  all  of  this  the  baby  was  crying  un- 
heeded on  the  bed,  my  brother  and  I  crouched 
in  a  corner  of  the  room,  too  terrified  to  move, 
or  else  huddled  on  the  narrow  stairs,  anxiously 
straining  our  ears  to  catch  the  sounds.  We 
had  only  one  room,  so  we  couldn't  very  well 
go  to  bed  while  they  were  quarrelling,  although 
we  were  often  awakened  in  what  seemed  the 
dead  of  night  by  the  fighting  of  our  parents. 

One  such  recollection  comes  to  me — of 
waking  with  a  start  with  the  noise  of  strife 
about  me,  the  table  pushed  over  on  its  side, 
and  my  parents  fighting  without  quarter  or 
mercy.  My  mother's  long  hair  was  loose  and 
tangled  with  blood,  her  clothes  gaping  open 
with  rents,  whilst  my  father's  face  was  terribly 
scratched  and  bleeding. 

"  Mother !  mother !  "  I  cried,  getting  out  of 
bed ;  "  father  !  do  stop ;  "  the  next  instant  the 
landlord,  his  wife  and  two  eldest  daughters 
came  into  the  room  and  separated  them,  stand- 
ing the  table  upright  again,  and  endeavouring 
to  soothe  the  combatants  into  ways  of  peace 
before  going  back  to  bed  themselves. 


B  2 


4        ONE   OF   THE    MULTITUDE 

Their  efforts  seemed  to  be  succeeding  when 
my  mother  darted  away  from  her  counsellors, 
and  seizing  a  jug  standing  on  a  kind  of 
dresser,  hurled  it  into  my  father's  face. 

Again  all  was  confusion;  for  a  moment  my 
father  struggled  to  get  free  from  the  land- 
lord's arms,  but  finally  allowed  himself  to  be 
taken  for  a  walk  in  the  deserted  streets  until 
he  felt  calmer.  The  women  remained,  to  send 
me  back  to  bed  with  a  kindly  word,  an'd  to 
bring  my  mother  to  reason — and  finally  to 
tears. 

My  mother  was  a  woman  with  a  good  head- 
piece, remarkably  sharp  in  repartee,  quick  at 
reckoning,  and  surprisingly  able  to  read  one's 
innermost  thoughts  of  a  certain  kind.  Both 
my  father  and  herself  were  illiterate — both 
very  able,  very  independent  of  each  other  and 
the  world,  and  both  very  much  disposed  to  take 
their  own  part.  Of  affection  there  was  none  : 
I  believe  both  were  incapable  of  it  in  any  very 
great  degree. 

At  school  I  was  always  the  youngest  boy  in 
my  class,  and  felt  very  keenly  my  comparative 


INTO   A   SLUM  5 

poverty,  not  because  my  schoolmates  were 
particularly  affluent,  but  because  I  was  particu- 
larly poor.  My  father  gave  my  mother  eight- 
een shillings  a  week  when  he  first  married,  and 
never  increased  it.  When  work  fell  slack  my 
mother  suffered  the  loss  of  wages;  when  work 
was  plentiful  and  overtime  the  order  of  the  day 
he  would  have  days  off,  spending  the  extra 
money  in  drink. 

The  consequence  was,  I  never  remember  the 
time  that  the  pawnshop  was  not  the  usual  resort 
for  cash.  All  sorts  and  conditions  of  clothes 
would  be  gathered  into  a  parcel  and  pawned. 
Sometimes  I  would  be  sent  to  some  relative 
or  other  to  borrow  a  shilling  or  two,  returning 
very  often  without  cash,  but  with  a  large  bundle 
of  clothes,  saying,  "  Aunt  Sarah  says  she  can't 
let  you  have  any  money,  but  you're  quite 
welcome  to  pawn  these  clothes  until  Saturday 
— only  make  sure  you  let  her  have  'em  by  four 
o'clock  because  Jimmy  (a  grown-up  cousin)  is 
very  particular  about  having  his  clean  things 
to  put  on  o'  Saturday  nights." 

It    will    be    seen    that    as    fresh    mouths 


clamoured  for  food,  and  bodies  for  clothing, 
our  financial  position  grew  worse  and  worse, 
until  at  last  we  were  absolutely  living  from 
hand  to  mouth.  All  the  money  my  father  gave 
up,  and  whatever  my  mother  received  for  her 
own  home  work,  was  exhausted  as  soon  as 
received  in  redeeming  the  pledged  clothes  and 
paying  the  rent.  I  was  often  sent  out  to 
borrow  the  money  to  buy  our  Sunday's  dinner, 
and  each  meal  during  the  week  was  a  veritable 
nightmare  of  worry  and  anxiety. 

I  have  said  my  mother  suffered  all  this;  my 
father  never  troubled  about  money  matters  in 
the  least,  and  took  all  the  meals  we  had 
so  anxiously  provided  without  the  slightest 
thought  or  consideration.  Often,  indeed,  he 
would  try  to  borrow  some  cash  from  the  few 
coppers  left — my  mother  weakly  yielding  after 
a  heartrending  recital  of  our  troubles.  The 
effect  on  me,  even  at  that  early  age — I  was 
about  seven — was,  that  I  pitied  my  parents, 
envied  my  comrades,  and  yet,  strange  to  say, 
glorified  myself.  I  felt  a  keen  delight  in 
being  superior.  At  school  I  was  able  to  get 


INTO   A   SLUM  7 

near  the  top  of  my  class,  composed  as  it  was 
of  much  older  boys  than  myself.  In  examina- 
tions or  essays  I  invariably  figured  either  first 
or  second.  My  unfavourable  circumstances 
were  perhaps  most  favourable,  had  I  known  at 
the  time,  because  I  gained  the  great  stimulus 
of  necessity.  At  this  time  my  companions  were 
boys  of  about  my  own  age,  street  arabs  all — 
some  of  whom  have  become  hooligans  since, 
whose  greatest  delight  was  to  "go  and  see  the 
trains  "  at  a  local  station.  I  remember  to  this 
day  my  mingled  feelings  of  awe  and  romance 
as  the  sinuous  folds  of  the  trains  wound  their 
way  under  the  bridge  I  stood  upon,  and  on 
into  the  mysterious  tunnel  at  the  end  of  the 
station. 

Then  I  would  return  home  (after  being 
chased  by  some  officious  porter)  to  dream  of 
journeys,  and  to  construct  primitive  trains  of 
cardboard.  At  this  time,  too,  I  found  in  a  dust- 
bin an  old  A.B.C.,  and,  having  developed  a 
fine  imagination,  often  journeyed  with  it  to  far- 
off  towns,  mostly  by  the  sea-side,  of  which  I 
had  heard  so  much  and  so  desired  to  see, 


8        ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

Sometimes  my  comrades  and  myself  would 
manage  to  get  a  halfpenny  each,  and  for- 
going the  temptation  of  sweets,  would  take  a 
half-single  ticket  each  to  the  next  station, 
cheerfully  enduring  the  long  walk  home — for 
the  novelty,  the  pleasure,  and  the  mystery  of 
the  ride. 


CHAPTER  II 

EARLY  EVENTS 

I  WAS  always  very  fond  of  reading,  to  which 
my  parents  somewhat  strongly  objected;  prob- 
ably it  interfered  with  "  minding  the  baby"  (oh  ! 
those  everlasting  babies;  as  soon  as  one  could 
toddle,  another  needed  nursing);  or,  perhaps, 
reading  and  washing-up  the  platters  were  too 
incompatible.  Add  to  these  duties  going  to 
school,  taking  to  and  fro  my  mother's  work, 
borrowing  money  or  pawnable  articles,  help- 
ing at  times  the  local  school-keeper, — it  will  be 
seen  that  I  had  very  little  opportunity  for 
reading.  Yet  I  read  an  extraordinary  number 
of  books,  and — quite  unaided  in  my  choice — 
many  masterpieces.  I  joined  the  school 
library,  and  the  times  being  so  bad,  both 
financially  and  climatically,  I  read  to  my 
parents  some  of  my  books  at  their  request. 
Thus  I  quickly  learned  to  read  sentences  as  if 

9 


10      ONE   OF  THE   MULTITUDE 

they  were  really  being  spoken,  an  accomplish- 
ment which  was  at  once  a  source  of  pride  and 
sorrow  to  me,  because  I  had  to  read  the  weekly 
newspaper  to  my  father  as  he  lay  in  bed  every 
Sunday  morning — and  read  so  well  that  my 
father  always  swore  that  no  other  growing  son 
of  his  could  be  entrusted  with  the  task. 

At  last  my  cravings  of  travel  were  realized. 
A  kindly  association,  connected  with  the 
school,  sent  me  with  other  boys  to  Reading 
for  three  glorious  weeks,  changing  my  outlook 
upon  Nature  and  especially  London.  I  had 
always  looked  upon  open  spaces  as  necessary 
stretches  of  green  relief  for  the  over-breathed 
air,  but  now  I  saw  that  the  town  was  a  blot  upon 
the  fair  surface  of  a  green  world.  When  I 
returned  the  air  of  our  street  was  choking  to 
me — I  was  sorry  to  have  returned.  Instead  of 
the  neat  orderliness  of  a  farm-house,  was  the 
untidy  litter  of  a  family  in  one  room,  in  a  mean 
house,  in  a  mean  street. 

I  tried  to  point  out  to  my  parents  the  need, 
and  the  possibility,  of  greater  cleanliness,  for 
which  I  was  harshly  scolded  and  severely 


EARLY   EVENTS  11 

punished.  I  had  now  sown  the  seeds  of  a 
discord  that  was  destined  to  last  many  years. 
I  gradually  gained  the  reputation  of  apeing 
my  betters,  of  trying  to  appear  that  which  I 
could  never  be;  and  so  my  thoughts  were 
inevitably  forced  to  a  higher  plane,  my  desires 
more  and  more  elevated.  I  rarely  breathed 
my  thoughts  to  the  others,  maintaining,  as  it 
were,  an  armed  neutrality,  whilst  they  never 
neglected  any  opportunity  to  take  a  book  from 
me,  or  insultingly  to  taunt  me  for  my  short- 
comings. 

A  kindly  society  at  this  time  started  the 
Children's  Happy  Evenings,  which  gave  me 
nearly  all  the  sweetness  that  just  then  came 
into  my  life.  I  have  said  I  assisted  the  school- 
keeper  at  odd  times,  and  on  these  evenings  I 
would  help  him  to  lift  the  heavy  desks  up  on 
to  others  (although  far  beyond  my  strength) 
and  pile  them  at  one  side  of  the  hall.  I  would 
then  rush  home,  wash  myself  and  join  in  the 
"happy  evening."  Those  kind  people  were, 
and  are,  doing  more  real  good  than  perhaps 
they  ever  dreamed  of.  I  would  here  beg  them 


12      ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

to   continue   that   splendid   work,    and   thank 
them  for  the  past. 

My  mother,  who  of  course  was  most  in- 
censed by  my  criticisms,  sometimes  made  me 
miserable  for  a  yeek  (an  age  to  a  child)  by 
preventing  me  from  going  to  the  entertainment 
after  I  had  laboured  with  the  desks  and  com- 
pleted my  very  simple  toilette.  I  had  for  days 
looked  forward  to  going,  and  upon  such  occa- 
sions would  expostulate,  and  attempt  to  argue 
for  my  rights.  A  loaf  or  anything  handy 
would  be  thrown  at  me,  whereupon  I  would 
escape  to  the  street  to  wander  about  for  hours 
disconsolate  and  cold,  and  at  last  creep  up  the 
stairs  and  submit  to  the  thrashing  that  was  my 
due.  One  night  that  I  had  offended  in  this 
way  my  mother  threw  a  fork  at  me,  which, 
narrowly  missing  my  cheek,  buried  its  prongs 
in  the  door.  My  mother  was  in  a  furious  rage, 
I  was  comparatively  calm.  So  I  drew  the  fork 
from  its  bed,  advanced  cautiously  to  the  table, 
and  had  just  laid  it  in  its  place  when  my 
mother  flung  a  perfect  fusillade  of  cups  and 
bread  at  me — whereat  I  fled. 


EARLY   EVENTS  13 

My  soul  rose  within  me.  I  determined  to 
be  an  outcast,  and  so,  fully  resolved  to  leave 
them  for  ever,  I  turned  my  back  on  the  street 
and  walked  about  the  City  for  hours.  Hunger 
soon  claimed  my  chief  attention,  and  being  by 
this  time  quite  desperate  I  stole  some  red 
currants  from  a  fruiterer's  stall,  and  ate  them 
with  gusto. 

Hardly  knowing  what  I  did  I  found  myself 
again  near  my  home.  A  voice  was  roughly 
ordering  me  to  "  Come  here !  "  which  I  identi- 
fied as  my  father's,  and  I  promptly  turned  and 
ran.  My  father's  voice  bade  all  and  sundry  to 
"  Stop  thief !  "  so  I  was  caught  struggling  in 
the  arms  of  a  lanky  youth,  who  thought  he  was 
doing  me  a  good  turn,  as  he  probably  was. 

With  the  air  of  a  conqueror  my  father 
dragged  me  home.  The  street  door  was  closed, 
I  was  knocked  down  in  the  passage  and  kicked 
and  punched,  until  almost  senseless  I  was 
allowed  to  creep  up-stairs  to  bed,  whilst  my 
mother  bewailed  her  lot  in  having  such  a 
villainous  son. 


CHAPTER    III 

THE    ' STREET    ARAB ' 

I  WOKE  next  day  with  a  fierce  resentment  in 
my  breast.  Because  I  had  dared  to  assert  my 
right  to  a  little  happiness,  I  had  been  battered 
and  beaten  until  every  part  of  me  was  bruised 
and  aching.  Even  the  slaves  I  was  then 
reading  about  in  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  were,  I 
thought,  more  humanely  treated  by  unrelated, 
unsympathetic  overseers  and  owners  than  I  by 
my  parents,  to  whom  the  ties  of  blood  alone 
should  have  appealed  sufficiently  to  prevent 
such  savage  punishment. 

All  day  I  brooded  over  the  situation,  and  at 
last  came  to  the  conclusion  that  I  would  remain 
at  home,  and  become  a  savage — would  run  wild 
— become  uncivilized  and  hooligan-like.  I  had 
no  doubt  my  parents  would  appreciate  me  more 

if  I  became  a  tartar,  wild  and  unmanageable; 

14 


THE   *  STREET   ARAB'  15 

I  would  slouch  along  the  streets,  heedless  of 
appearance  or  anything  else ;  I  would  turn  their 
own  weapons  upon  them. 

To  the  desire  always  seems  to  come  the 
means;  it  came  to  me  in  the  shape  of  Jimmy 
Braid,  a  nervous,  polite-to-your-face  little 
rogue,  who  wore  a  perfect  bundle  of  rags, 
and  never  washed  more  than  the  immediate 
circle  of  his  face.  Braid  was  in  my  class  at 
school. 

"  Didn't  'arf  'ave  a  lark  larst  night,"  he  con- 
fided to  me  that  morning,  imparting  the  in- 
formation with  a  most  attractive  air  of  mystery, 
and  speaking  in  a  halting  sort  of  way  with  his 
hand  nervously  hovering  about  his  mouth. 

Eager  for  further  details,  I  began  shuffling 
up  to  his  desk,  sometimes  being  caught  by  the 
teacher  (Braid  had  the  knack  of  never  being 
caught),  but  I  was  successful  enough  as  a  rule 
to  gather  highly  coloured  accounts  of  the 
doings  and  goings-on  in  his  most  notorious 
street.  My  own  playmates  soon  began  to 
appear  insipid  before  such  a  desperado,  and, 
in  accordance  with  my  desires,  I  left  them  and 


16      ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

began  to  play  games  with  Braid  and  his  chums 
in  their  particularly  unsavoury  quarter. 

The  games  varied.  Sometimes  those  of  us 
who  possessed  caps  placed  them  in  a  heap  in 
the  road,  and  then,  forming  a  circle  by  joining 
hands,  would  pull  this  way  and  that  until 
one  of  us  was  forced  to  kick  the  heap ;  where- 
upon the  defaulter  left  the  circle,  which  thus 
diminished  until  one  was  proclaimed  victor. 

Of  course,  cards  were  very  much  in  evidence 
on  Saturday  and  Sunday,  when  money  was 
more  plentiful — little  halfpenny  packs  with 
which  they  played  Banker.  Then  races  were 
arranged  "  round  the  houses  " — a  definite  route 
— generally  won  by  "  Chimpy,"  a  half-witted 
youth  of  ferocious  appearance  and  temper, 
whose  name  was  the  endearing  diminutive  of 
Chimpanzee.  One  thing  which  struck  me 
greatly  at  first  was  the  amount  of  terror  the 
sight  of  one  policeman  caused.  As  soon  as  a 
"rozzer"  appeared  on  the  scene,  the  whole  of 
our  gang,  or  "  click "  as  they  preferred  to  call 
it,  dissolved — vanished  into  all  sorts  of  dark 
corners  and  passages.  When  a  little  whistle 


THE   'STREET   ARAB'  17 

was  sounded  as  the  signal  of  safety,  we  again 
issued  forth  to  take  up  a  game  or  a  gamble 
where  it  had  been  dropped. 

The  language  they  used  was  of  the  most  vile 
description;  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  utter 
it,  although  their  adjectives  and  metaphors 
began  to  soak  into  my  mind — so  much  so  that 
I  began  to  feel  my  lips  frame  the  words,  and 
my  mind  thinking  in  their  terms. 

Braid  was  very  Contemptuous  of  my  word — 
purity.  "  You'll  never  be  a  man  or  the  captain 
of  a  click  unless  you  don't  blinking  well  swear," 
he  would  say. 

One  night,  as  we  were  playing  a  kind  of 
"  Touch,"  Braid  shouted  out  that  he  had  great 
news  to  impart.  The  game  ceased  immediately, 
we  formed  a  ring  about  Braid,  and  waited  for 
him  to  commence. 

"  See  that  'ere  little  finger  ?  "  he  said,  holding 
the  digit  up  for  our  inspection.  We  looked  as 
we  were  bidden.  "Notice  anything?"  he 
queried. 

"  Yes."  Chimpy  alone  replied  in  the 
affirmative. 


18      ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

"  Well,  what  do  yer  notice  ?  "  suspiciously 
inquired  Braid. 

"Why,  it'ser " 

"  Aht  wiv  it !  "  the  whole  click  demanded. 

Chimpy  looked  round  for  an  avenue  of 
escape,  and,  seeing  one,  shouted,  "Why,  it's 
dirty,  and  wants  washin',  like  your  bloomin' 
neck." 

When  the  excitement  of  this  unexpected 
answer  had  subsided,  Braid  again  held  up  his 
little  finger.  "  See  that  nail  ?  "  he  said.  "  Notice 
'ow  it's  arf  cut  ?  " 

We  duly  noticed  the  cut  nail  of  his  finger. 

"  Well,"  he  continued,  "  I  went  dahn  Bishigit 
[Bishopsgate],  and  poked  that  nile  into  some 
bloke's  pocket,  and  this  is  what  it  drew 
aht"  —  his  other  hand  was  drawn  from  his 
pocket  as  he  spoke,  holding  a  silk  handkerchief 
aloft. 

A  murmur  of  applause  broke  from  the 
assembled  boys,  who  then  turned  to  the  second 
item  on  Braid's  agenda. 

:<  This  kid  'ere,"  he  said,  indicating  myself, 
"comes  along  of  us,  but  don't  swear  nor 


19 

nothink.  What  d'yer  say,  boys :  are  we 
going  to  keep  'im  in  the  click,  or  chuck  'im 
out?" 

All  eyes  turned  upon  me. 

"  What  cher  got  ter  say  for  yerself  ?  "  was  the 
demand. 

For  a  moment  I  felt  two  impulses  fighting 
within  me  :  one,  my  true  self,  to  cut  away  from 
the  whole  of  the  sordid  associations ;  the  other, 
to  remain  and  become  really  one  of  them,  and 
show  my  parents  I  could  be  a  tartar. 

The  baser  motive  came  uppermost  at  the 
time.  Vile  words  poured  unchecked  from  my 
lips,  to  the  evident  relish  of  the  boys. 

"  Bravo  !  "  cried  Braid.  "  It's  easy  enough 
once  you  try,  ain't  it  ? "  And  was  so  pleased 
that  he  freely  forgave  Chimpy  for  his  indis- 
cretion, and  allowed  him  to  return  to  the  black- 
sheep  fold  without  punishment. 

At  this  time  street  was  divided  against  street. 
Almost  every  separate  thoroughfare  had  its 
"click,"  which  issued  challenges  for  some 
slight,  fancied  or  otherwise,  that  had  been 
inflicted  by  other  clicks  upon  a  member.  The 


C2 


20      ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

offending  street  would  be  "  offered  out,"  and 
war,  red,  raging  war,  would  be  declared. 

Braid's  locality — Turkey  Lane — had  a  great 
reputation  for  street  fights,  and  when  the 
;' Turks"  were  upon  the  war-path  prudent 
people  kept  indoors. 

Gradually,  under  my  companion's  guardian- 
ship, I  was  getting  into  touch  with  some  of 
these  desperadoes,  when  a  street  fight  was  pro- 
claimed with  the  Gammon  Street  boys.  Braid 
and  I  were  sent  out  as  scouts,  while  the  other 
boys  armed  themselves  with  cumbrous  pistols 
of  uncertain  age  and  unreliable  firing  powers, 
a  quantity  of  heavily  buckled  straps,  and  lumps 
of  road  metal.  My  companion  and  I  had  just 
started  on  our  errand,  when  he  suggested  in  a 
melodramatic  whisper  that  we  ought  to  dis- 
guise ourselves.  I  agreed.  Visions  of  passing 
through  the  enemy's  ranks  disguised,  perhaps, 
as  an  old  man  or  woman  excited  my  fancy,  and 
I  told  him  so.  He  laughed.  "  Fathead  !  "  was 
all  he  said,  and  the  next  moment  I  saw  him 
taking  away  a  plate  from  a  little  girl  who  was 
weeping  bitterly. 


21 

"Why  don't  you  give  the  girl  back  her 
plate  ?  "  I  demanded,  without  being  vouchsafed 
any  reply;  whilst  the  girl  was  appealing 
between  her  tears,  "  Gimme  my  plate.  Boo- 
hoo  !  boo-hoo  !  My  mother  will  hit  me  when 
I  get  home  !  " 

"  That's  nothing,"  said  Braid,  without  look- 
ing back.  "  I  didn't  take  her  money  away, 
did  I?  " 

"No,"  I  replied,  "but  still "  At  that 

moment  I  looked  back  and  saw  another  of 
our  click  taking  the  girl's  money  away,  to  the 
accompaniment  of  a  paroxysm  of  tears. 

"  Now,"  said  Braid,  "  put  that  under  your 
arm,  and  the  Gammon  boys'll  think  you're  on 
an  errand  if  they  see  us." 

This  was  my  disguise — an  innocent  look  on 
my  face,  and  a  plate  under  my  arm ! 

Advancing  gingerly,  we  were  near  to  the 
enemy's  street,  when  we  became  aware  of 
several  dim  figures  creeping  along  the  sides 
of  the  houses — we  were  ambushed !  .With  a 
cry  for  help,  my  companion  dashed  up  the 
street,  whilst  I  merely  remained  in  the  middle 


22      ONE   OF  THE   MULTITUDE 

of  the  road,  anxious  not  to  miss  any  of  the 
sight,  and  without  the  slightest  desire  to  fight. 
Stones  pelted  around,  the  arms  of  the  enemy 
were  about  me,  when  Braid  and  his  mob  con- 
temptuously pushed  me  aside,  and  the  fight 
began  in  earnest. 

The  street  cut  across  a  main  thoroughfare, 
and  the  rival  factions  began  to  bombard  each 
other  with  showers  of  kerb-stones  across  the 
wide  road.  Traffic  was  suspended  until,  amid 
the  desultory  "  plop  "  of  a  revolver  and  a  false 
alarm  of  "  Police !  "  the  Turks  were  able  to 
cross  the  road,  and  with  buckled  straps  com- 
plete the  victory. 

I  became  suddenly  aware  that  this  was  no 
place  for  me,  so  I  sedately  returned  home,  got 
my  usual  evening  errands,  and  went  to  sleep, 
at  rest  with  the  world. 

In  the  morning  my  mother  asked  me  if  I  had 
seen  anything  of  a  terrible  street  fight  that  had 
taken  place  the  previous  night.  Of  course  I 
hadn't.  "What  happened?"  I  inquired;  and 
learned  then  that  three  boys  had  been  shot — 
one  by  the  explosion  of  his  own  pistol,  and  not 


THE   'STREET   ARAB'  23 

expected    to    live — also    very    many    serious 
casualties  through  the  stones. 

Such  desperate  encounters  were  street  fights 
then  that  I  know  to-day  at  least  two  men  who 
have  each  lost  an  eye  through  these  bitter  little 
wars.  The  sight  of  so  much  primitive  passion 
let  loose  disgusted  me  the  next  day,  the  recol- 
lection of  swearing  made  me  loathe  myself  and 
my  companions,  and  this,  coupled,  I  suppose, 
with  the  fear  of  possible  punishment  for  my 
participation  if  it  became  known,  influenced  me 
to  return  to  my  old  playmates,  and  substitute 
the  comparatively  mild  pastime  of  jumping  off 
high  walls  for  street  fights. 


CHAPTER    IV 

SCHOOL' 

A  NEW  teacher  came  to  our  school  at  that 
time.  A  man  of  mystery;  nobody  quite  knew 
who  he  was — a  man  of  means;  he  spent  far 
more  on  us  than  he  earned,  and  withal  a  very 
fine  sportsman.  The  head  master,  a  strict 
disciplinarian,  chosen  particularly  for  our  slum 
school,  introduced  the  new  man,  and  cautioned 
us  to  "Behave  ourselves  or  look  out."  I 
"  looked  out "  about  half-an-hour  afterwards  at 
the  new  teacher's  request,  and  after  a  painful 
interview  with  the  head  master,  returned  to  the 
class  smarting  both  physically  and  mentally. 

I  was  particularly  angry  with  the  new  teacher, 
and  I  suppose  I  must  have  shown  it,  because, 
as  soon  as  class  was  over,  he  talked  me  into  a 
feeling  of  hero-worship,  and  invited  me  home 

to  tea.     Shabbily  clothed  as  I  was,  odd  boots 

24 


SCHOOL  25 

on  my  feet,  and  without  a  cap,  I  accompanied 
him  to  Toynbee  Hall.  After  a  steaming  wash 
in  what  seemed  to  me  the  acme  of  lavatories, 
I  entered  the  large  common  room  and  had  tea 
with  my  teacher,  pouring  out  quaint  fancies 
and  opinions  in  return. 

"  Fine  book  that,  isn't  it  ? "  he  would  say  as 
I  turned  the  pages  of  an  illustrated  paper. 

"  Well,"  I  would  reply,  "  I  think  there's  too 
many  advertTse'ments  in  it;  you  don't  get  your 
value." 

"  You  should  say  advertisements,"  he  would 
correct  me  kindly  first,  and  then  attend  to  my 
arguments. 

I  can  hardly  estimate  the  value  of  the  influ- 
ence these  visits  had  over  me.  I  felt  that  a 
new  ray  of  light  was  being  shed  into  my  life; 
instead  of  head-patting  or  condescension  my 
teacher  treated  me  as  a  comrade  and  equal,  for 
which  I  was  grateful. 

He  disappeared  from  my  horizon  as  mysteri- 
ously as  he  had  appeared. 

Permeation  of  the  lower  classes  by  settle- 
ments is  a  splendid  thing — the  best  way,  I 


26      ONE   OF   THE    MULTITUDE 

think,  of  raising  the  tone  of  East  End  life  of 
all  the  methods  I  have  seen  applied. 

I  had  always  been  rather  chummy  with 
the  strict  head  master  I  have  referred  to. 
"  Chummy  "  doubtless  seems  to  be  a  strange 
word  in  this  connection,  yet  we  were  most 
friendly  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  I  was  fre- 
quently caned  and  in  disgrace.  One  day  he 
appeared  at  the  glass  door  and  beckoned  me. 
Unwillingly  I  rose  from  my  seat  and  joined 
him,  fully  expecting  the  cane — instead  of 
which  he  began  like  this — 

"  I  suppose  you  haven't  got  the  slightest  idea 
why  I  brought  you  out  like  this?  No,  I 
thought  you  wouldn't.  Well,  I  thought  to 
myself,  George  Acorn  is  the  very  one." 

"Yes,  sir?"  I  responded. 

"  Do  you  know  where  I  can  buy  a  hat-box  ? " 

Such  a  query  startled  me  for  a  moment.  I 
turned  my  memory  about,  and  after  pondering 
a  little,  told  him  I  thought  I  did.  He  insisted 
upon  particulars.  I  told  him  the  place,  the 
name,  and  the  condition  of  the  box,  apologized 
for  not  knowing  the  price,  and  eventually  we 


SCHOOL  27 

issued  from  the  school  bent  on  purchasing  the 
hat-box. 

With  one  hand  on  my  shoulder  he  told  me 
quaint  stories  until  we  reached  the  shop;  only 
to  find  the  hat-box  had  been  sold !  "  Never 
mind,  George,"  he  said,  "  I  can  easily  get 
another." 

We  returned  in  silence,  with  the  chill  of 
disappointment  in  our  hearts,  and  were  nearing 
the  school  when,  thrusting  his  thumbs  in  his 
waistcoat  band,  he  stopped  to  watch  some 
passing  woman. 

"  Hem  !  "  he  said  (patting  my  shoulder  as  he 
spoke),  "  dooced  fine  figure  that  woman's  got, 
eh,  George?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  I  agreed,  and  we  returned  to  our 
separate  vocations,  although  I  was  aware  that 
deep  in  my  heart  was  a  fine  contempt  for 
womankind. 


CHAPTER   V 

'DAVID  COPPERFIELD' 

IN  the  meantime  affairs  at  home  were  getting 
blacker  and  blacker.  Work  was  very  scarce 
indeed.  My  father  was  able  to  get  work  for 
only  a  few  hours  daily,  and  the  loss  of  his 
income,  with  the  rapid  piling  up  of  debts, 
made  our  existence  a  veritable  nightmare.  It 
affected  our  younger  lives  a  good  deal  so  far 
as  food  was  concerned.  But  by  getting  up 
very  early  in  the  morning  a  free  breakfast  was 
to  be  obtained  at  a  local  chapel ;  dinners  were 
arranged  from  the  school  about  twice  a  week, 
and  personally  I  often  had  tea  with  my  teacher. 
But  home  was  more  cheerless  than  ever;  the 
bare  boards  of  our  room  struck  such  a  chill  to 
body  and  soul.  We  had  just  a  handful  of  fire 
— just  enough  to  be  visible,  but  with  about  as 
much  heating  power  as  a  candle.  At  the  table 

my  father  sat  with  his  head  bowed  upon  his 

28 


*  DAVID   COPPERFIELD'        29 

hands  for  hours ;  whilst  my  mother  would  make 
match-boxes,  straining  her  eyes  to  avoid  light- 
ing the  impoverished  oil-lamp.  My  single 
accomplishment,  reading  aloud,  was  now  very 
welcome,  and  I  went  through  many  a  book  with 
them,  weary  though  the  task  became. 

I  had  seen  in  a  shop-window  a  very  old  and 
tattered  copy  of  David  Copperfield,  on  which 
my  eyes  would  feast.  I  knew  that  a  treasure 
lay  between  the  common  tawdry  covers,  and 
longed  to  possess  it.  The  sum  of  fourpence 
was  to  me  a  king's  ransom.  The  possession 
of  such  a  book  seemed  only  possible  on  attain- 
ing that  golden  age  when  I  should  go  out  to 
work.  However,  Fortune,  in  the  shape  of  a 
decrepit  old  woman,  favoured  me. 

I  was  in  the  street  "  minding  the  baby  "  when 
the  old  lady — who,  by  the  way,  was  clad  in 
workhouse  clothes — called  me  gently,  mysteri- 
ously hinting  at  my  getting  the  sum  of  two- 
pence if  I  went  to  a  certain  address  and 
brought  help.  Full  of  the  golden  prospect  I 
left  the  child  to  another  brother  and  hastened 
to  the  address  she  indicated.  The  people  did 


30      ONE  OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

not  seem  particularly  grateful  to  me  for  com- 
ing, but  eventually  accompanied  me  to  the  old 
woman,  who  promptly  paid  me  the  promised 
twopence. 

Now,  for  some  little  time  past  I  had  been 
making  miniature  stages  out  of  cardboard  that 
I  found  in  the  street;  drawing  out  my  scenes 
and  characters  with  pencil.  To  these  I  tacked 
a  very  bald  play  I  had  written,  which  was 
merely  a  repetition  of  the  gags  heard  at  a 
neighbouring  music-hall  to  which  my  father 
had  taken  me  in  a  fit  of  generosity.  When  I 
arrived  home,  with  one  penny  in  each  pocket 
to  prevent  their  rattling,  I  got  into  trouble,  as 
I  had  expected,  for  leaving  the  baby,  but  found 
with  a  very  great  deal  of  relief  that  nobody 
knew  anything  of  the  remuneration  I  had 
received.  Perhaps  it  was  very  selfish  of  me 
to  keep  it  when  bread  and  fire  were  so  sorely 
needed;  I  can  only  say  I  was  very  hungry  for 
something  outside  my  dismal  life — particularly 
for  books.  However,  having  the  twopence  I 
sought  about  for  some  means  of  raising  more 
money,  and  decided  to  sell  my  stage.  I  spoke 


'DAVID   COPPERFIELD'        31 

to  various  boys  about  it,  and  eventually  sold 
it  for  three-halfpence. 

Gathering  together  all  my  capital  I  rushed 
round  to  the  bookseller's  shop  and  clamoured 
impatiently  at  the  door,  and  when  that  proved 
unavailing,  shouted  through  the  •  key-hole. 
After  what  seemed  an  eternity  of  suspense  a 
heavy  foot  sounded  upon  the  stairs,  and  Mrs. 
Daley,  the  very  stout  wife  of  the  bookseller, 
drew  back  unnecessary  chains  and  opened  the 
door. 

:( Well  ?  "  she  inquired ;  "  what  do  you  want 
to  come  waking  people  up  from  their  afternoon 
nap  for,  eh?" 

I  meekly  asked  how  much  the  David  Copper- 
field  with  the  daisy  on  the  cover  was  (the  ticket 
had  been  taken  off  during  the  week). 

"  Fourpence,"  she  said.  Alas !  I  had  only 
threepence-halfpenny.  Hardly  trusting  myself 
to  speak,  so  keen  was  my  disappointment,  I 
held  the  money  out  in  the  palm  of  my  hand 
for  her  inspection. 

"  H'm !  "  she  grunted  (I  thought  she  looked 
just  like  a  pig).  "  Comin'  round  kickin'  up  a 


32      ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

hullabaloo  and  wakin'  people  up,  and  then 
hasn't  got  the  money !  "  and  the  good  lady 
proceeded  to  lecture  me  upon  my  iniquities. 

I  was  just  about  to  turn  away  like  the  man 
of  great  possessions  in  Watts's  picture,  when 
the  rattling  of  a  barrow  ceased ;  Mr.  Daley  had 
returned  with  his  bookstall,  and  was  inquiring 
what  was  the  matter? 

"David  Cop -per ft  eld"  I  sorrowfully  said, 
"  that's  all  I  have  got,"  showing  him  my  three- 
pence halfpenny. 

"  Never  mind,  sonny,"  he  replied,  ignoring 
his  wife's  clamourings,  "you  shall  have  it  for 
that,"  and  taking  my  money  he  reached  forth 
his  hand  and  placed  the  treasure  within  my 
itching  palms. 

The  clock  was  just  striking  six,  night  was 
fast  settling  upon  London,  and  gradually  the 
shop  windows  were  illuminated — most  oppor- 
tunely for  me.  Drawing  the  precious  book 
from  beneath  my  coat,  I  read  the  first  few 
chapters  with  absorbed  attention,  when  one  of 
my  brothers  sidled  up  to  me  and  asked  me 
where  I  had  found  the  book.  I  immediately 


'DAVID   COPPERFIELD'         33 

realized  my  position — went  into  a  dark  street 
and  tore  out  the  first  three  leaves,  which,  of 
course,  I  had  read.  I  rushed  home  with  the 
book,  and  by  the  glimmer  of  that  feeble  hope- 
less light  read  page  after  page  of  the  wonderful 
book.  My  mother's  sharp  eyes  soon  noticed 
something  different  from  my  library  books,  and 
in  curt,  forbidding  tones  inquired  how  I  came 
by  it? 

I  told  a  lie,  of  course ;  invented  a  story  about 
a  man  who  had  given  it  to  me  because  some 
pages  were  out — showing  the  torn  leaves  as 
testimony. 

My  mother,  I  believe,  was  thoroughly  worn 
out  by  the  anxious  time  she  was  having.  All 
the  thousand-and-one  shifts  to  get  meals, 
which  only  the  poor  can  know,  depended  on 
her  generalship ;  and  so,  incensed  at  my  spend- 
ing money  at  such  a  time — she  had  noticed 
the  absence  of  the  stage,  and  knew  it  did  not 
go  for  nothing — punished  me  severely  for  that 
crime  and  for  telling  lies. 

The  book  was  flung  under  the  bed.  How  I 
longed  to  rescue  it !  I  lay  awake  that  night, 


34      ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

and  at  last  felt  the  moment  had  arrived. 
Hastily  slipping  out  of  bed,  shiveringly  across 
the  bare  boards  I  crept  to  regain  my  treasure. 
I  could  hear  the  regular  breathing  of  my 
parents,  and  cautiously,  carefully,  oh !  so  care- 
fully, crept  under  their  bed,  and  gently  drew 
the  book  towards  me.  "What's  that?"  I 
heard  my  mother  say  as  I  made  a  loose  board 
creak.  My  father  turned  over :  "  Oh,  only 
the  cat.  Let  her  be,  she'll  catch  the  mice," 
and  to  my  great  relief  they  fell  asleep  again. 

With  straining  nerves  I  crept  silently  back 
to  my  bed,  and  gradually  the  peaceful,  regular 
breathings  around  lulled  me  to  sleep  with 
David  Copperfield  in  my  arms.  I  took  the 
book  to  school  with  me  the  next  day,  fearing 
to  let  it  out  of  my  sight.  During  the  playtime 
I  sat  apart  on  a  flight  of  steps,  reading  of  his 
early  boyhood  until  I  began  to  identify  him 
with  myself. 

When  I  got  home  after  school  I  found  my 
father  and  mother  sitting  silently  facing  each 
other.  They  had  nothing  to  talk  about  except 
trouble,  so  they  remained  silent.  I  suggested 


'DAVID   COPPERFIELD  35 

reading  something,  and  so,  when  the  other 
children  had  been  put  to  bed,  I  read  from  my 
beloved  book.  And  how  we  all  loved  it,  and 
eventually,  when  we  got  to  "  Little  Em'ly," 
how  we  all  cried  together  at  poor  old  Peg- 
gotty's  distress !  The  tears  united  us,  deep 
in  misery  as  we  were  ourselves.  Dickens  was 
a  fairy  musician  to  us,  filling  our  minds  with  a 
sweeter  strain  than  the  constant  cry  of  hunger, 
or  the  howling  wind  which  often,  taking  advan- 
tage of  the  empty  grate,  penetrated  into  the 
room. 

To  the  already  unbearable  load  of  anxiety 
a  new  burden  was  added.  A  younger  brother 
became  ill,  and,  of  course,  luxuries  such  as 
beef-tea  were  impossible.  Had  it  not  been  for 
our  kind  landlady,  who  sent  some  food  from 
her  own  scanty  store  of  provisions,  we  should 
all  probably  have  come  very  near  to  starvation. 

Gradually  my  brother  grew  worse.  Instead 
of  reading,  my  father  and  I  could  only  sit  and 
watch  my  mother  as  she  nursed  the  child  in 
her  arms,  trying  to  still  its  fitful  cries  by 
strange,  sweet,  soothing  invocations. 

D  2 


36      ONE  OF  THE   MULTITUDE 

My  mother  had  never  appeared  to  be  parti- 
cularly tender,  and  it  was  a  revelation  to  me, 
this  unfolding  of  the  great,  loving,  maternal 
instinct.  She  would  work  like  one  possessed, 
her  dexterous  fingers  moulding  box  after  box 
almost  too  quickly  for  the  eye  to  follow — and 
all  for  a  paltry  twopence-farthing  a  gross  com- 
plete !  Of  all  the  foul  blots  on  our  civiliza- 
tion, sweating  is  surely  the  blackest.  Although 
her  head  was  bent  over  her  work  apparently 
oblivious  of  all  else,  she  would  start  up  at  the 
least  cry  from  the  ailing  child,  and  rock  it  to 
her  bosom  until  she  could  lay  it  down,  enjoin- 
ing silence  on  us  all,  and  then  resume  her  work 
as  if  her  life  depended  on  it.  Saturday — that 
restful  day  when  ordinary  cares  relax,  and  most 
people  have  a  glorious  sense  of  ease — came 
with  suffering  in  its  train.  All  Saturday  morn- 
ing I  could  see  by  my  mother's  terrible  anxiety 
that  the  child  was  worse.  He  was  engaging  all 
her  attention  when  my  father  returned  with  his 
very  scanty  wages,  perfectly  sober.  At  my 
father's  bidding  I  cleaned  the  room  as  best  I 
could;  then  asked  for  some  money  to  get  tea 


'DAVID   COPPERFIELD'        37 

and  oil  with.  My  mother  in  a  whisper  told  me 
not  to  spend  any  money.  "  Every  farthing," 
she  said,  "was  bespoke."  So  we  sat  round 
the  cheerless  grate  whilst  the  twilight — such  a 
hopeless  twilight — cast  a  pall  over  our  energy 
and  our  very  thoughts.  The  lamp,  which  was 
now  only  burning  its  wick,  was  lit,  and  by  its 
gleams  we  could  see  my  mother  standing  and 
soothing  the  child  in  her  arms. 

"  Go  to  the  hospital  and  see  if  the  doctor 
will  come,"  she  asked  my  father,  who  promptly 
departed. 

The  cries  of  the  child  had  ceased.  "  He's 
asleep,"  my  mother  said,  more  to  herself  than 
to  me,  and  in  my  dim  childish  fashion  I 
let  the  words  echo  through  and  through  my 
brain,  "  He's  asleep.  Hush !  he  is  asleep 
— sh !  "  And  he  was,  had  we  but  known,  for 
ever. 

My  father  had  been  gone  some  time  and  my 
mother  began  to  express  considerable  impati- 
ence for  his  return.  She  was  still  nursing  the 
child,  bidding  me  every  now  and  then  to  look 
out  for  my  father. 


38      ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

Suddenly  a  look  of  fear  came  into  her  face. 
She  seemed  afraid  of  something;  then,  bracing 
herself  as  if  for  some  frightful  task,  inclined 
her  ear  to  the  child's  mouth.  She  gave  a  pierc- 
ing scream,  and  whispered  brokenly,  "  My  God, 
he's  dead !  " 

I  remember  as  if  it  were  yesterday  the  feel- 
ing of  utter  hopelessness  that  hemmed  us  in. 
My  father  presently  returned,  divining  that 
something  was  wrong  from  the  look  on  my 
mother's  scared  face.  "Any  better  now?"  he 
inquired. 

"  Yes,  better  now ; "  my  mother  spoke 
mechanically,  with  set  white  face,  and  great 
unseeing  eyes.  "  He's  dead." 

The  doctor  had  refused  to  come  for  a  couple 
of  hours  or  so,  in  spite  of  my  father's  urgent 
representations,  and  now  that  he  had  returned, 
the  child  was  dead.  Unemotional  man  as  he 
was,  his  frame  shook  with  anguish,  and  he 
burst  into  heartrending  tears.  I  was  far  too 
cold  and  miserable  and  hungry  to  do  anything 
but  sit  on  an  old  biscuit-box  (we  had  only  two 
or  three  chairs),  staring  vacantly  into  space  and 


*  DAVID   COPPERFIELD'        39 

gathering  like  a  photographic  film  impressions 
of  the  sorrow  around  me. 

Was  there  ever  a  more  hopeless  Saturday 
night  than  that?  Fireless,  without  light  or 
food,  and  with  the  body  of  a  dead  child  to 
remind  us  of  everything?  I  hope  not. 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE   TRAPPINGS    OF   WOE 

THE  death  of  my  brother  really  lightened  our 
burdens  for  a  time.  Relatives  and  neighbours, 
all,  to  be  sure,  very  poor,  vied  with  each  other 
in  doing  little  things  for  us;  whilst  the  insur- 
ance money  enabled  my  mother  to  buy  some 
black,  and  for  me — a  new  suit  of  clothes. 

How  I  dreamed  of  that  suit  of  clothes !  I 
had  no  remembrance  of  ever  having  had  such 
a  possession  before.  The  death  of  my  brother 
and  the  attendant  anguish  was  overtopped  by 
the  prospective  glories  of  my  raiment — a  weak- 
ness to  which  I  find  the  human  race  is  peculiarly 
liable. 

Living  as  we  did  up-stairs,  all  our  water  had 
to  be  carried  up  in  a  large  stone  bottle,  con- 
siderable care  being  needed  to  guide  it  round 
the  tortuous  stairs.  It  was  a  duty  that  generally 

fell  to  me,  although  far  beyond  my  strength — 

40 


THE   TRAPPINGS   OF  WOE      41 

but  that  was  a  mere  detail.  A  day  or  two  after 
the  death,  I  had  to  perform  the  water-carrying 
task  for  about  three  times  in  succession,  my 
arms  feeling  as  if  another  load  would  pull  them 
out  of  their  sockets.  I  was  not  allowed  to  rest, 
however,  and,  in  spite  of  misgivings,  I  was  sent 
down  for  another  bottleful.  Foot  by  foot  I  got 
it  to  the  stairs,  and  called  out  for  my  mother 
to  come  and  take  it. 

The  result  was  not  satisfactory.  "  If  I  didn't 
carry  it  up  myself,  I  should  get  the  finest  hiding 
I'd  ever  had,"  which  was  conclusive.  So, 
bravely  spitting  upon  my  hands,  I  proceeded 
painfully,  carefully,  to  drag  up  that  awful 
bottle.  I  was  about  half-way  up  when  my  mind 
began  to  wander,  and  I  could  think  of  nothing 
else  but  that  new  suit,  and  constantly  reiterate 
my  mother's  injunction,  "  Come  on — hurry  up. 
Come  on — hurry  up,"  as  each  step  was  sur- 
mounted. 

A  dizzy  sort  of  feeling  ensued,  and  I  slipped,— 
fell  with  the  bottle  down  the  whole  flight  of 
stairs  into  the  passage,  and  lay  stunned  for  the 
time  being  amid  the  wreckage  of  the  bottle  and 


42     ONE   OF  THE  MULTITUDE 

the  sea  of  water  which  flooded  the  place.  I 
picked  myself  up  painfully,  expecting  sym- 
pathy, or  at  least  some  inquiries  as  to  whether 
I  was  hurt. 

As  usual,  I  got  the  good  hiding  I  had  been 
promised;  at  which,  feeling  acutely  the  mon- 
strous injustice  of  these  constant  punishments, 
I  struggled  and  fought  in  retaliation.  It  was 
very  foolish  of  me,  and  I  prefer  to  draw  a  veil 
over  what  prevailed. 

I  expounded  my  rankling  bitterness  of  mind 
to  the  landlady,  Mrs.  Potter,  who  very  promptly 
assured  me  I  should  get  no  sympathy  from  her. 

'  You're  an  ungrateful  little  brat,"  she  said. 
"  Your  mother  is  a  hard-working  woman  who 
sticks  at  her  work  from  morning  to  night,  earn- 
ing the  food  for  you  to  eat;  and  if  your  father 
and  mother  do  'ave  a  little  jangle  now  and  then 
— well,  we're  only  human,  and  we  all  have  our 
ups  and  downs.  And  besides,  a  little  scrap-up 
clears  the  air  sometimes.  Me  and  Mr.  Potter 
has  a  few  words  now  and  then,  but,  bless  yer, 
we  love  each  other  all  the  better  afterwards. 
So,  if  you've  had  a  good  hiding,  well,  I  dare 


THE   TRAPPINGS   OF   WOE      43 

say  you  deserved  it ;  and  so,  mind  your  p's  and 
q's,  and  don't  go  and  do  it  a  second  time.  A 
few  good  hidings'll  make  a  man  of  yer." 

She  was  a  kindly  woman  by  nature,  stout  and 
authoritative,  with  her  theories  of  human  con- 
duct exactly  corresponding  to  her  environment. 

Mr.  Potter  was  considered  by  everybody 
concerned  to  be  a  model  husband.  Physically, 
he  was  as  stout  as  Mrs.  Potter,  but  much  taller; 
mentally,  his  life  swung  between  the  poles  of 
a  chat  over  a  glass  of  beer  and  a  pipe,  and  a 
look  at  the  evening  newspaper. 

Their  offspring  consisted  of  two  sons  and 
two  daughters ;  the  whole  family's  motto  appar- 
ently being  to  "  pay  our  way  as  we  go ;  and  if 
we  can't  pay,  then  to  stop  at  home  " ;  their  chief 
purpose  in  life,  to  maintain  a  local  reputation 
for  being  thoroughly  respectable. 

The  house  consisted  of  four  rooms :  two  on 
the  ground  floor  occupied  by  the  Potters,  our 
own  room  on  the  first  floor,  and  above  us 
another  family  in  the  other  room,  of  whom  I 
shall  have  something  to  write  in  a  later  chapter. 

At  last  the  day  of  the  funeral  arrived.    I  was 


44      ONE   OF  THE   MULTITUDE 

dressed  betimes,  and  gradually  the  mourners 
assembled.  The  blind  was  down,  and  the  black 
garments  within  the  gloomy  room  cast  a  chill 
over  me.  Everybody  was  talking  and  chatter- 
ing until  about  ten  minutes  before  the  coffin 
was  taken  out,  when  handkerchiefs  with  mon- 
strous black  borders  were  pressed  to  the  eyes, 
and  crying  commenced.  In  single  file  we 
entered  the  carriages  through  an  avenue  of 
vulgar  sightseers,  and  slowly  the  procession  left 
the  street,  finally  breaking  into  a  trot  near  the 
burying-grouncl. 

I  knew,  in  a  way,  that  it  was  the  correct  thing 
to  cry,  but  I  couldn't;  the  novelty  of  the  suit 
and  the  carriage  ride,  the  fact  that  I  had  two- 
pence in  my  pocket,  and  a  white  handkerchief 
with  a  black  border  of  my  own,  engaged  all  my 
thoughts.  Besides,  the  other  people  dried  their 
tears  with  remarkable  alacrity  as  soon  as  we  got 
clear  of  the  neighbouring  streets. 

The  burial  was  as  serious  as  anything  could 
be,  yet  as  soon  as  the  carriages  left  the  grounds 
for  the  homeward  journey  the  talk  veered  round 
entirely  to  ordinary  common  mundane  things. 


THE   TRAPPINGS   OF   WOE      45 

A  stop  was  made  at  a  public-house  half-way 
home  for  half-an-hour  or  so,  during  which  time 
some  of  our  drivers  got  best  part  drunk,  and 
many  of  the  mourners  fell  to  quarrelling.  I  sat 
apart  from  it  all  in  the  carriage,  shocked  beyond 
measure  at  such  behaviour,  refusing  even  the 
proffered  ginger-beer  that  my  fellow-mourners 
desired  to  press  on  me.  It  was  a  cold  day,  and 
I  was  a  strict  teetotaler. 

After  what  seemed  to  be  hours  of  weary 
jolting  we  arrived  home,  and  I  ventured  to 
express  my  distaste  of  the  homeward  journey.  I 
couldn't  help  it ;  it  was  so  degrading,  I  thought, 
to  convert  a  funeral  procession  into  a  drinking 
bout. 

The  assembled  company  scowled  at  me,  and 
once  again  I  was  made  to  understand  that  these 
ideas  of  mine  would  eventually  lead  me  into 
crimes  too  awful  to  be  indicated. 

It  will  be  seen  that  I  was  always  alone  in 
everything  that  was  thought  or  done ;  and  so  I 
grew  to  depend  entirely  upon  myself — to  judge 
things  without  any  relation  to  what  others  would 
say,  and  eventually  to  keep  most  of  my  thoughts 


46     ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

to  myself.  I  felt  myself  an  Ishmael,  and 
gloried  in  it.  I  had  a  curious  sense  of  isola- 
tion from  every  one  at  that  time — even  my 
playmates  seemed  to  be  only  appendages,  with 
whom  I  had  nothing  but  physical  relations. 


CHAPTER   VII 

GAMES     AND     CREEDS 

THE  virus  of  "  doing  one  another's  Dags " 
took  us  at  that  time.  One  boy  would  challenge 
the  rest  to  imitate  his  doings,  and  so  they 
would,  unless  the  prospect  of  a  broken  neck 
was  too  manifest.  A  boy,  for  instance,  would 
run  between  the  legs  of  a  horse  as  it  was 
ambling  along,  although  a  slight  miscalcula- 
tion would  cause  him  to  be  trampled  upon  and 
run  over.  Casualties,  indeed,  were  fairly  fre- 
quent; we  nearly  always  had  one  playmate  in 
the  hospital  with  something  broken. 

Jews  gradually  spread  down  the  street.  As 
soon  as  one  Jew  gets  into  a  street,  he  lowers 
its  tone  and  forms  the  centre  of  a  constantly 
increasing  stream  of  aliens.  Many  were  the 
invectives,  harsh  the  insults  thrown  to  Mrs. 
Cohen,  a  hideous  warty-faced  old  woman  who 
had  pioneered  into  our  street  in  the  interests 

47 


48     ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

of  Jewry.  At  that  time  I  felt  somewhat  sym- 
pathetic to  what  I  conceived  to  be  an  unfor- 
tunate downtrodden  race ;  but  living,  as  I  have 
(done,  so  closely  to  them  for  over  twenty  years, 
I  now  experience  nothing  but  dislike  and 
repulsion  for  the  average  Jew  of  the  mean 
street. 

Despite  my  sympathy,  I  was  not  above 
taking  a  hand  in  persecuting  them ;  so  when  we 
found  the  carcase  of  a  dead  fowl  our  thoughts 
turned  naturally  to  the  Cohens. 

We  began  by  banging  at  their  knocker,  and 
constantly  caused  the  good  lady  to  open  the 
door,  muttering  her  strange  "  Instamachinas," 
or  whatever  she  said.  When  we  were  sure 
they  were  nearly  frantic  with  rage,  we  fastened 
the  dead  fowl  upon  a  nail  in  the  door-framing 
(used  for  the  milk-cans,  I  suppose)  and 
knocked  louder  than  ever.  The  door  flew  open 
with  a  crash.  Mr.  Cohen,  with  a  broom  in  his 
hand,  hurled  himself  out  of  the  doorway,  and 
got  a  smack  from  the  dead  fowl,  which  knocked 
him  into  the  arms  of  Mrs.  Cohen.  We  stood 
in  all  sorts  of  positions  suitable  for  running 


GAMES   AND   CREEDS  49 

away,  but  there  was  no  need,  for  the  fowl  was 
cut  down  and  taken  indoors,  to  the  accompani- 
ment of  great  cheers  when  we  saw  how  success- 
ful our  trick  had  been.  To  the  credit  of  our 
parents  it  must  be  said  here  that  most  of  us 
were  punished  for  this  outrage. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  pent-up  life  of  a  slum 
street  can  only  find  its  outlet  in  mischievous 
deeds,  and  indeed,  although  we  in  our  street 
were  very  mild  by  comparison  with  others,  we 
were  sufficient  to  cause  a  reign  of  terror.  Our 
mildest  trick  was  "  knocking  down  Ginger,"  in 
other  words  running  through  street  after  street 
banging  the  knockers  of  the  houses. 

Despite  all  these  things,  essential,  no  doubt, 
to  our  young  blood,  I  managed  to  get  through 
a  great  deal  of  reading ;  and,  strange  as  it  may 
seem  at  my  age,  I  had  some  appreciation  of 
style,  tackling  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  books, 
from  "  Penny  Bloods "  to  George  Eliot.  I 
particularly  remember  Treasure  Island,  which 
I  thought  was  the  usual  penny  blood  sort  of 
story,  with  the  halo  of  greatness  about  it. 
Rising  nine  in  age,  I  was  presumptuous  enough 


50      ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

% 
to  consider  that  the  author  had  the  makings  of 

a  great  writer  within  him  !  I  have  since  learned 
that  he  died  in  that  very  year.  George  Eliot 
in  those  days  I  read  solely  for  the  story.  I 
used  to  skip  the  parts  that  moralized,  or  painted 
verbal  scenery,  a  practice  at  which  I  became 
very  dexterous.  Such  mental  gymnastics  were 
forced  upon  me  by  the  flood  of  goody-goody 
literature  which  was  poured  in  upon  us. 
Kindly  institutions  sought  to  lead  us  into  the 
right  path  by  giving  us  endless  tracts,  or  books 
in  which  the  comparative  pill  of  religious 
teaching  was  clumsily  coated  by  a  mild  story. 
It  was  necessary  in  self-defence  to  pick  out  the 
interesting  parts,  which  to  me  at  that  time  were 
certainly  not  those  that  led  to  the  hero's  con- 
version, or  the  heroine's  first  prayer. 

Our  attitude  towards  religion  was  —  that 
somewhere  in  the  skies  was  a  God,  the  Father 
of  the  human  race,  and  the  Maker  of  the  world. 
To  certain  favoured  individuals  He  was  kind, 
and  provided  good  food  and  raiment  in  return 
for  a  regular  attendance  at  church.  The 
people  in  our  street,  especially  our  own  family, 


GAMES  AND   CREEDS          51 

had  been  overlooked  by  God,  and  it  was  foolish 
to  expect  deliverance  from  our  troubles  by  any 
other  source  than  our  own  abilities.  Thus  we 
felt  sure  that  there  was  a  God,  but  that  He  was 
no  friend  of  ours,  that  it  was  of  no  use  to 
depend  on  Him  for  anything,  and  that  it 
behoved  us  to  sharpen  our  wits  and  fight  the 
world  for  what  we  could  get. 

I  shared  these  beliefs  in  common  with  my 
father  and  mother,  who  sometimes  made  them 
the  subjects  of  a  casual  conversation.  And  yet 
I  had  a  distinct  leaning  towards  religion. 
Places  of  worship  were  so  clean,  that  I  often 
felt  the  desire  to  go  into  a  local  church.  The 
brooding  feeling  of  peacefulness  seemed  to 
smooth  one's  turbulent  desires.  Eventually,  in 
company  with  various  other  "  street  arabs,"  I 
walked  boldly  up  the  aisle,  and  took  a  seat  in 
the  front  pew,  heedless  of  the  curious  glances 
of  the  well-dressed  people,  who  audibly  tittered 
at  our  impudence. 

I  liked  it  very  much,  but  my  companions 
were  very  restive,  and  when  they  began  to 
criticize  the  choir-boys,  standing  up  in  the  pew 

£   2 


52      ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

and  pointing  out  to  whom  they  were  referring, 
the  verger  thought  it  was  time  to  interfere, 
so  we  were  ignominiously  bundled  out.  We 
solaced  ourselves  by  "  knocking  down  Ginger  " 
for  the  rest  of  the  evening. 


STAGE-STRUCK 

IN  the  meantime  I  had  continued  to  help  the 
school-keeper  at  odd  moments,  and  as  a  reward 
he  asked  me  to  go  into  his  house  and  have 
something. 

I  went,  of  course;  had  some  lemonade  and 
cake — a  rare  treat,  I  considered — and  thought 
the  world  wasn't  such  a  bad  place,  after  all. 

"  Now  look  here,  George,"  he  said.  "  D'you 
see  that  notice  outside  my  door?" 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Tilly." 

"  Well,  George,  I've  got  a  ticket  for  that,  and 
if  you'd  like  to  go  I'll  give  it  to  you.  Would 
you  go  if  I  let  you  have  it  ? " 

"Well,"  I  inquired,  "whereabouts  is  Queen's 
Hall?" 

"  Why,  Langham  Place,  Oxford  Circus,"  he 
said;  and  as  I  was  doubting  in  my  mind  if  I 
could  ever  find  it,  he  continued,  "  It's  a  two- 

53 


54     ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

shilling  seat,  and  it's  a  fine  concert;  only  I  can't 
go  myself,  so  I  thought  you'd  like  to." 

Imagine  what  it  meant — a  small,  ragged  boy 
not  yet  nine  years  of  age  going  to  walk  half- 
way across  London  to  claim  a  two-shilling  seat 
at  a  swell  concert.  I  closed  with  his  offer,  and, 
leaving  home  about  twelve  the  following  Satur- 
day, followed  closely  the  route  I  had  picked 
out  from  a  school  map  of  London. 

At  length,  without  a  farthing  in  my  pocket 
or  a  cap  on  my  head,  I  paused  at  the  corner  of 
Gray's  Inn  Road. 

"  What  cher,  George  !  "  a  voice  said.  I  turned 
round;  it  was  Mr.  Tilly,  the  school-keeper. 
"  Get  up  on  that  'bus,"  he  said,  following  me 
in  my  upward  flight. 

Once  on  top,  he  told  me  of  the  delights  of 
the  concert  I  was  going  to,  paid  my  fare,  and 
gave  me  threepence  to  return  with.  I  shrewdly 
suspect  that  he  had  been  waiting  at  that  corner 
to  assist  me,  and  that  he  returned  home  as  soon 
as  I  got  off  at  Oxford  Circus,  although  he  said 
he  was  going  to  visit  some  friends.  Then,  I 
thought  it  was  a  most  wonderful  coincidence, 


STAGE-STRUCK  55 

and  thanked  my  lucky  stars.  Now,  I  am  in- 
clined to  thank  God  there  is  so  much  goodness 
about.  With  a  last  look  at  the  kindly  school- 
keeper,  I  began  to  explore  Langham  Place, 
and  finally  paused  outside  Queen's  Hall,  to 
wonder  if  such  fine  fellows  as  the  doorkeepers 
would  allow  such  a  ragged  little  urchin  as 
myself  to  enter.  However,  I  presented  my 
two-shilling  ticket  to  them,  and,  to  my  great 
joy,  my  progress  was  not  checked — expansive 
smiles  on  their  faces  showing  that  something 
tickled  them  immensely. 

I  walked  in  with  a  crowd  of  fashionably 
dressed  ladies,  and  took  a  seat  where  I  should 
be  alone.  It  was  not  a  very  crowded  house, 
but  as  it  gradually  filled  I  felt  my  personal 
discomfort  increasing.  I  watched  a  family 
party  enter  and  pull  down  their  seats  in  the 
same  row — an  example  I  quickly  followed,  for 
I  had  been  sitting  upon  the  arm,  and  knew 
nothing  of  the  secrets  of  tip-up  chairs.  No 
wonder  I  had  felt  uncomfortable ! 

The  concert  was  really  great,  the  music 
mainly  vocal  in  character;  and  by  connecting  it 


56     ONE   OF  THE   MULTITUDE 

in  some  way  with  the  Church  music  I  had  heard, 
I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  Heaven  must  be 
a  sort  of  gigantic  Queen's  Hall  where  every- 
body knew  the  secret  of  the  seats. 

In  the  interval  I  strolled  about  with  my 
hands  in  my  pockets,  looking,  I  thought,  like 
the  son  of  an  earl,  flattering  myself  that  I  was 
successfully  deceiving  people. 

The  great  reminder,  Hunger >  soon  ba'de  me 
return  home ;  so  sorrowfully  I  left  such  beauti- 
ful sounds,  such  a  clean  place,  an'd  walkeH  all 
the  way  home,  spending  the  money  Mr.  Tilly 
had  given  me  in  refreshment  on  the  way. 

I  often  used  to  think  about  the  essential 
loneliness  of  everybody.  I  was  conscious  of 
being  I,  and  aware,  of  course,  that  everybody 
else  was  an  "  I "  too;  yet  it  seemed  that  I  was 
the  most  important  person  on  earth — that  the 
world  revolved,  although  it  seemed  painfully 
unaware  of  the  fact,  about  me. 

It  may  be  doubted,  but  it  is  absolutely  true, 
that  at  that  time  I  used  to  wonder  why  my 
particular  /  should  be  born  into  my  particular 
body,  and  whether  there  were  any  extraordinary 


STAGE-STRUCK  57 

effects  to  follow  in  my  subsequent  life  because 
of  that  particular  union. 

I  had  a  very  strong  feeling  that  I  was  born 
to  be  very  great  indeed — a  feeling,  I  suppose, 
most  of  us  possess  in  our  youth  :  a  desirable 
feeling,  I  think,  because  if  we  are  ever  able  to 
do  anything  at  all  deserving  the  name  of  great- 
ness, it  is  fostered  by  a  belief  in  one's  mission 
and  capability  for  it. 

My  taste  for  miniature  stages  now  received 
a  decided  fillip.  A  school  chum  told  me  he 
had  one  made  of  wood,  with  footlights  in  front. 
Of  course,  I  went  home  with  him  and  admired 
it,  and  won'dered  how  I  could  become  possessed 
of  one  also.  Mr.  Tilly  solved  the  financial 
part  of  the  problem  by  giving  me  a  permanent 
twopence  a  week  in  return  for  about  three 
hours'  work;  and  as  my  father's  work  became 
better,  I  received  the  customary  halfpenny 
every  Saturday  from  him.  Here  was  wealth 
indeed !  I  promptly  sought  out  my  school 
chum,  and  arranged  easy  terms,  with  an  initial 
deposit  of  threepence.  After  waiting  a  week 
or  so  I  received  a  gorgeous  stage  with  four 


58     ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

smoky  footlights  (penny  apiece) :  total  cost,  a 
shilling.  I  also  bought  a  penny  sheet  of  scenes 
and  characters,  which  I  coloured  with  crayons, 
mounted  on  cardboard,  and  laboriously  cut  out. 

I  smuggled  the  stage  indoors,  and  hid  it 
under  the  bed;  but  my  mother  made  me  drag 
it  out,  and  with  stern  face  demanded  full  par- 
ticulars. "  How  much  have  you  given  for 
that  ? "  she  demanded  icily. 

"A  shilling — tuppence  a  week,"  I  meekly 
apologized. 

"  Oh  !  So  you're  going  to  pay  six  weeks  for 

that  d d  thing,  are  you? "  Then  her  voice 

lowered  to  a  positive  hiss.  "  Look  here,  my 
boy,  I'll  teach  you  not  to  spend  your  money  on 
trash.  Take  that.  .  .  ." 

I  gladly  escaped  with  a  clump  on  the  ear, 
and  a  dull,  cold  feeling  at  my  heart.  Never 
understood,  never  right — only  and  always  an 
Ishmael. 

I  secured  from  the  family  down-stairs  a 
worn-out  musical-box  which  originally  cost 
about  twopence,  and  played  four  notes  in  con- 


STAGE-STRUCK  59 

tinual  succession  by  turning  a  knobless  handle. 
This  was  my  orchestra,  and  at  last  I  decided, 
when  the  opportunity  should  become  favour- 
able, to  give  a  performance.  I  waited  long  and 
patiently;  and  rejoiced  exceedingly  when  I 
learned  that  both  my  parents  and  the  people 
down-stairs  would  be  out  the  following  Monday 
evening.  I  drew  out  a  poster  announcing — 

The  FIRST  Performance 

of 
THE    MILLER   AND    HIS    MEN 

at  the  Metropole  Theatre, 

Morocco  Street,  E. 
Entrance  fee — a  farthing. 

This  I  circulated  among  the  small  boys  of  the 
district. 

The  great  evening  arrived  at  last.  Anxiously 
I  helped  my  mother  to  clear  away  the  tea- 
things,  eager  only  to  get  my  parents  well  out 
of  the  house,  and  my  audience  into  the  yard. 
Threepence-farthing,  representing  fourteen 
small  boys  (one  wouldn't  come  in  unless  his 


60     ONE   OF  THE   MULTITUDE 

younger  brother  was  admitted  free),  was  soon 
jingling  in  my  pocket.  I  got  them  well  through 
the  house,  then  left  them  for  a  few  minutes 
whilst  I  went  out  to  buy  a  pennyworth  of 
sweets. 

When  I  returned  the  boys  were  playing 
'  Touch,'*'  shouting  like  penny-'dreadful  Indians 
on  the  war-path.  Our  landlord  (the  direct 
tenant)  had  been  trying  for  years  to  induce  a 
strip  of  earth  about  a  yard  square  to  grow 
radishes  from  successive,  but  unsuccessful, 
penny  packets  of  seed;  and  upon  this  truly 
sacred  spot  the  van'dals  were  jumping.  I  could 
have  shrieked  at  the  sacrilege,  but  composed 
my  inward  feelings,  and  eventually  gathered 
my  audience  round  the  stage,  which  rested  on 
an  old  box.  I  announced  the  Overture,  and 
patiently  turned  the  knobless  handle,  until 
somebo'dy  said  he  was  going  to  sleep  :  "  Would 
some  one  wake  him  up  when  it  was  all  over?  " 
— and  another  complained  of  stomach-ache.  I 
released  the  musical-box,  and  used  the  dis- 
engaged hand  to  stuff  some  sweets  into  my 
mouth.  "  The  Miller  and  His  Men  !  "  I  cried 


STAGE-STRUCK  61 

in  the  grand  manner.  With  a  little  difficulty 
the  blind  was  rolled  up,  the  play  commenced 
— and  my  troubles. 

During  rehearsals  the  characters  had  worked 
smoothly  enough,  the  side  wings  and  scenes 
were  easy  to  manipulate,  but  now  nothing 
would  go  right;  the  play  looked  like  being  a 
fiasco.  The  small  boys  at  the  back  of  my 
audience  began  to  throw  small  stones  at  my 
characters,  and  the  wind  made  a  sudden  effort 
and  blew  out  my  footlights.  I  went  into  the 
house  to  get  a  match,  and  returned  to  find  every 
boy  with  a  portion  of  the  scenery  in  his  hand. 
Everything  was  hopelessly  muddled  up  after 
that,  and  I  decided  to  give  a  grand  spectacular 
effect  in  lieu  of  the  complete  play.  Eventually 
the  explosion  scene  was  staged — a  mill,  with 
lurid  streaks  of  red,  white,  and  green  radiating 
from  the  upper  part,  and  in  the  sky  two  or 
three  bodies  in  various  positions,  representing 
the  fate  of  some  of  the  villains. 

I  was  explaining  this  grand  finale,  when  the 
stage  was  knocked  over  in  one  direction,  I  in 
another.  My  mother's  irate  voice  caused  the 


62      ONE   OF   THE    MULTITUDE 

audience  to  stampede  through  the  passage,  and 
I  was  left  to  explain  matters.  As  a  beginning, 
my  mother  smashed  the  stage,  burned  the  pro- 
perties, gave  me  a  thrashing,  and  sent  me  out 
to  pay  back  all  the  farthings.  I  did  so  as  far 
as  possible,  but  I  had  spent  a  penny,  so  four 
boys  had  to  go  without.  So  keen,  however,  was 
their  feeling  of  injustice  that  we  fell  to  quarrel- 
ling, and  finally  I  had  a  fight  with  one.  I  felt 
that  a  theatrical  manager's  life  was  not  all 
honey — I  had  had  a  thrashing  from  my  mother, 
a  fight  with  a  comrade,  my  stage  was  in  pieces ; 
and — I  had  ninepence  yet  to  pay. 


CHAPTER    IX 

THE    COMMON    ROUND 

I  FELT  the  loss  of  my  stage  very  acutely.  A 
definite,  abiding  feeling  of  resentment  grew 
within  me.  I  lost  no  opportunity  of  reminding 
my  mother  of  how  she  thwarted  every  innocent 
desire  of  mine  for  amusement  and  culture. 
"  If,"  I  would  say,  "  I  am  as  wicked  and 
gallows-bred  as  you  say,  whose  fault  is  it  ?  Do 
you  expect  a  dutiful,  obedient  son,  when  you 
have  never  taught  him  to  respect  you,  or  have 
cause  for  affection?"  A  loaf  of  bread  or  a 
knife  would  be  thrown  at  me,  I  would  escape 
to  the  street,  sometimes  wearing  only  my  shirt 
and  trousers,  and  would  remain  out  until  night- 
fall, when  I  could  safely  venture  up-stairs  and 
creep  into  bed. 

My  comrades  would  generally  share  their 
meals  with  me — such  meals  as  they  were. 
Sometimes  a  meal  consisted  of  a  halfpenny- 

63 


64     ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

worth  of  fried  potatoes,  "chips,"  in  an  old 
newspaper.  When  the  family  cash  was  too 
meagre  to  allow  a  halfpenny  all  round,  four 
halfpenny  cold  "  faggots  "  would  be  procured 
from  the  local  pork-butcher,  sliced  into  halves, 
and  dished  up  to  the  young  olive  branches 
thus — one  half-faggot  on  one  slice  of  bread 
constituting  one  meal. 

A  faggot  is  a  thing  of  mystery,  compared  to 
which  a  sausage  is  transparently  honest :  it  is 
a  square  solid  slab  of  a  darkish  green-brown 
colour,  a  three-inch  cube  of  minced  pork- 
butchers'  odds  and  ends,  baked  by  the  score 
in  a  large  tin. 

I  suppose  it  is  the  pitch  at  which  these  poor 
people  live  that  makes  them  so  ready  to  throw 
things  about;  anyway,  it  is  a  widely  spread 
instinct  among  them  to  fling  the  first  thing  the 
hand  can  seize.  The  father  and  mother  of  a 
girl  I  know  of  were  both  unemployed,  and 
entirely  dependent  upon  their  daughter's  wages 
for  sustenance.  They  drank  to  excess,  and 
were  fighting  one  evening  when  she  returned 
from  work.  The  father  had  his  face  badly 


THE   COMMON   ROUND          65 

scratched.  In  retaliation  he  pulled  a  red-hot 
poker  from  the  fire  and  hurled  it  at  his  wife. 
The  girl  put  out  her  hand,  and — stopped  it. 
She  could  do  no  work  for  months  because  it 
burned  a  hole  through  her  hand,  and  crippled 
it  for  life.  Nobody  was  told  that  it  was  any- 
thing but  a  "rather  unusual  accident." 

Many  a  slum-child's  scars  are  inflicted  by  its 
parents,  scars  of  the  soul  as  well  as  the  body. 
These  people  lead  mechanical  lives.  It  is 
appalling  that  so  many  of  our  neighbours 
should  go  through  life  without  even  an 
elementary  knowledge  of  decent  conduct, 
should  live,  marry,  produce  children,  fight, 
quarrel,  all  by  rote,  and  never  think. 

A  certain  conventional  set  of  words  consti- 
tutes an  insult.  They  feel  little,  or  no,  affront, 
but  take  up  and  carry  on  a  quarrel  by  means 
of  a  conventional  harangue  which  increases  in 
anger  and  ends  with  fight.  The  mind  is  not 
used  at  all ;  it  is  simply  animal  against  animal, 
via  conventional  routes. 

I  was  again  sent  into  the  country,  saw  the 
sea  for  the  first  time,  and  was  disappointed. 


66      ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

But  country  life  was  grand.  I  was  very  sorry 
to  return,  but  London  was  my  home,  the  slums 
my  native  environment.  So  I  just  carried  the 
love  of  country  in  my  heart  back  to  town;  a 
love  which  only  increases  with  years. 

I  was  gradually  induced  by  my  comrades  to 
join  a  neighbouring  ragged  school,  and  was 
very  fortunate  in  being  placed  in  Mr.  Godfrey 
Warden's  class.  Every  Sunday  evening  we 
stood  in  queue  waiting  for  the  doors  to  open, 
whilst  the  bigger  bullying  boys  would  button- 
hole us  all  by  turns  and  demand  sweets  or 
money,  or  buttons  (with  which  to  play),  cutting 
the  latter  from  our  trousers  if  we  had  nothing 
else  to  give.  There  was  a  boy  named  Williams 
who  was  my  particular  enemy.  Although  only 
about  my  own  size,  he  was  able  to  exercise  a 
remarkable  influence  over  me.  At  his  approach 
I  felt  benumbed ;  often  his  actions  would  work 
me  into  a  fearful  rage,  yet  I  felt  powerless  to 
strike  him.  If  he  saw  me  on  an  errand  he 
would  chase  me,  knowing  his  power,  and  laugh- 
ingly run  away  when  he  had  cornered  me. 

Mr.  Warden  was  a  common-sense  philan- 


THE   COMMON  ROUND          67 

thropist,  and  the  fact  that  nearly  all  his  boys 
are  now  respectable  members  of  the  com- 
munity is  testimony  to  his  splendid  character 
and  wise  teaching.  I  have  a  photograph  of  a 
small  group,  with  Mr.  Warden  in  the  centre, 
taken  just  outside  London — a  small  group  of 
ragged  urchins,  smartened  up  as  much  as  pos- 
sible for  the  occasion,  all  guests  of  our  teacher 
at  his  home,  where  the  servants  and  the  silver 
teapot  combined  to  take  our  breaths  away. 

Mr.  Godfrey  Warden  remained  our  friend 
for  some  years  after  we  had  drifted  out  of  his 
class.  Several  reunions  were  effected,  at  which 
times  he  would  take  us  to  some  West  End 
entertainment — ragged  boys  no  longer,  but 
straightforward,  clean-living  young  men. 

The  day  school  I  attended  was  very  limited 
in  its  syllabus,  so,  having  run  through  all  the 
classes,  and  being  too  young  to  leave — at 
the  age  of  ten,  I  was  drafted  off  to  another 
school  of  wider  scope.  I  was  treated  with 
remarkable  consideration — due,  I  suppose,  to 
my  late  schoolmaster's  commendations — and 
was  given  every  opportunity  to  shine.  I 


F2 


68     ONE   OF   THE    MULTITUDE 

managed  to  win  the  prize  for  an  essay  against 
the  school,  but,  generally  speaking,  failed  to 
become  more  than  an  average  scholar  in  such 
studies  as  grammar  or  mathematics;  probably 
because  the  other  school  had  never  given  me 
the  proper  rudiments.  For  instance,  I  was 
told  to  parse  a  long  sentence  without  ever 
having  had  a  single  lesson  in  grammar;  or  to 
work  out  an  algebraic  puzzle,  although  quite 
innocent  of  algebraic  guile.  Our  teacher  was 
a  fine  fellow,  who  took  us  in  the  dinner  hour  to 
a  neighbouring  lecture-hall  for  working  men, 
where  many  a  wise  and  great  man  assisted  our 
young  ideas  to  shoot.  Sir  Walter  Besant  on 
the  "  Tower  of  London  "  I  remember,  and  Miss 
Honnor  Morten  on  "  Hygiene  in  the  Home." 
I  could  not  help  feeling  rather  cynically 
amused  when  that  good  lady  advised  us  to 
let  the  sunshine  into  our  homes  whether  the 
carpets  suffered  or  not.  Carpets  ! 

In  my  home,  matters  were  still  under  a  cloud, 
only  rather  more  so,  for  by  this  time  there  were 
six  of  us  children,  with  father  and  mother,  all 
living  in  the  one  room — or,  rather,  existing. 


THE   COMMON  ROUND          69 

Financially,  we  were  in  a  very  bad  state  indeed ; 
we  had  an  increasing  deficit  every  week, 
because  there  was  an  increasing  demand  for 
additional  food  and  clothing. 

My  mother  solved  the  problem  for  a  time  by 
borrowing  a  couple  of  pounds  from  a  neigh- 
bouring money-lending  shark.  A  large,  coarse, 
soulless  being  with  a  strident  voice,  to  whom 
she  agreed  to  pay,  I  think,  three  shillings  a 
week  interest  until  the  whole  sum  was  refunded 
by  additional  payments.  I  should  think  my 
mother  paid  at  least  ten  pounds  interest  on  that 
loan — yet  never  repaid  the  capital.  But  as  that 
belongs  rightly  to  a  later  chapter  I  propose  to 
reserve  details.  The  worst  of  the  financial  stress 
was  that  our  tender  years  could  not  ignore  such 
things.  Instead  of  possessing  the  light  heart 
of  boyhood,  I  was  prematurely  old  and  care- 
worn. I  am  considerably  younger  now  than  I 
was  then. 

It  is  a  merciful  dispensation  that  veils  the 
future,  for,  had  we  but  known,  we  were  in 
Paradise  to  what  was  to  follow. 


CHAPTER    X 

DEPTHS 

IT  was,  and  still  is,  the  custom  for  the  men 
and  boys  of  the  poorer  classes  in  the  East  End 
of  London  to  congregate  "  down  the  Lane  "  or 
"down  the  Row."  There  are  several  Sunday 
morning  market  bazaars,  the  greatest  probably 
being  those  of  Petticoat  Lane  and  Club  Row. 
Every  Sunday  morning  the  pavements  are 
thronged  with  jostling  crowds  of  the  male 
population,  journeying  towards  one  of  these 
common  centres.  Not,  it  would  seem,  so  much 
for  what  they  intend  to  buy  as  to  gratify  the 
universal  desire  to  rub  shoulders  now  and  then 
with  masses  of  one's  fellow-men. 

They  come  to  Club  Row  with  linnets  in  cages 
darkened  by  being  tied  up  in  neckerchiefs,  or 
with  young  puppies  in  their  hands,  or  pigeons 

in  bags,  for  sale,  admiration,  or  exchange. 

70 


DEPTHS  71 

The  boys  have  their  tame  mice  or  their 
rabbits.  The  Jew  comes  to  buy  a  fowl  for 
dinner,  provided  it  is  cheap,  poking  and  pull- 
ing the  bird  about  until  every  atom  of  flesh  has 
been  calculated,  and  no  feather  left  unturned. 

Other  men  deal  in  bicycles,  gramophones, 
old  iron,  quack  medicines — and  occasionally 
the  three-card  trick. 

Petticoat  Lane  is  almost  entirely  Jewish,  so 
far  as  the  stall-keepers  go ;  mainly  of  that  new 
type  of  Jew — the  blustering,  pugilistic,  un- 
scrupulous, athletic  type,  which  seems  to  be 
overcoming  the  old  deferential,  cringing  his- 
torical type;  and  owning  allegiance  neither  to 
morality,  Judaism,  Christianity,  nor  to  any 
nation. 

I  desire  not  to  be  mistaken.  That  there  are 
good  and  bad  in  every  nation  in  about  equal 
proportions  I  firmly  believe.  I  only  regret  that 
my  own  life  has  brought  me  into  close  contact 
with  more  of  the  repellent,  new  type  of  Jew  I 
have  indicated  than  with  any  other. 

Petticoat  Lane  is  devoted  to  clothing,  tools, 
jewellery,  the  purse  trick,  and  Jewish  delicacies. 


72      ONE   OF   THE  MULTITUDE 

There  are  hundreds  of  side  lines,  but  these  are 
the  main  features. 

The  purse  trick  is  an  amazing  performance 
in  sleight  of  hand.  You  see  a  man  drop  three 
half-crowns  into  a  leather  purse  as  plainly  as 
you  ever  saw  anything  done  in  your  life.  He 
sells  you  the  purse  and  contents  for  a  shilling; 
you  open  the  purse  (at  a  distance),  and  find 
three  halfpennies  at  the  bottom,  instead  of  three 
half-crowns;  you  wonder  how  it's  done,  con- 
sider that  you  have  bought  a  shillingsworth  of 
experience,  and  then  throw  the  purse  away. 

In  common  with  other  men,  my  father  made 
a  pilgrimage  every  Sunday  morning  to  both 
Petticoat  Lane  and  Club  Row;  not  as  a  cus- 
tomer, but  rather  in  the  character  of  a  philo- 
sophic looker-on.  It  was  part,  and  an  important 
part,  of  his  life's  ritual — one  of  his  greatest 
relaxations. 

I  was  helping  my  mother  to  clear  the  room 
before  dinner  one  Sunday  afternoon  (the  East 
End  Sunday  dinner  is  partaken  of  at  3.15  p.m., 
after  the  public-houses  close),  when  a  peculiar 
hubbub  was  heard  at  the  street  door.  We  could 


DEPTHS  73 

generally  analyse  sounds — distinguish  a  fight 
from  a  row,  a  neighbourly  interchange  of  chaff 
from  a  discussion  of  "what  was  up."  My 
mother  and  I  listened  intently  for  a  moment. 
"  Go  down  and  see  what's  the  matter,"  she  said. 
I  was  saved  the  trouble,  for  the  next  moment 
a  neighbour's  girl  ran  into  the  room  with  the 
news  that  she  had  seen  my  father  riding  in  a 
cab  with  a  handkerchief  over  his  arm,  in  com- 
pany with  a  gentleman  wearing  a  "top-hat." 
My  mother  made  great  efforts  to  disbelieve  what 
the  girl  said ;  but  she  was  so  persistent,  and  the 
news  was  so  detailed,  that  we  became  convinced 
that  something  untoward  had  occurred. 

To  ride  in  a  hansom  cab  was  to  us  like  riding 
in  the  State  Coach.  Only  one  family  in  the 
street  was  known  to  have  ridden  in  one,  and 
that  was  because  their  uncle  was  a  cabby,  who 
occasionally  paid  them  a  visit  and  took  them 
round  the  houses  as  a  rare  treat,  and  perhaps 
in  order  to  advance  their  social  standing. 
Consequently,  to  hear  of  my  father  in  such 
exalted  state  seemed  to  me  to  indicate  a  rise 
in  the  family  fortunes;  but  my  mother  placed 


more  importance  upon  the  handkerchief  over 
his  arm  as  foreboding  some  grave  news. 

We  proceeded  no  farther  with  the  meal,  but 
sat  down  in  the  still  untidy  room,  obsessed  by 
a  feeling  of  helpless  anticipation  mingled  with 
fear.  More  definite  news  arriving  later  con- 
firmed the  girl's  statement  and  our  worst  fears. 
My  father  had  been  run  over  by  a  bicycle 
"  down  the  Lane,"  and  had  sustained  a  com- 
pound fracture  of  the  arm.  He  had  been  taken 
to  a  doctor,  who  in  turn  took  him  to  the  hospital 
in  a  cab. 

It  was  a  mercy,  in  some  ways,  that  six  little 
mouths  clamoured  for  food  at  this  juncture,  for 
it  roused  my  mother  to  action,  and  prevented 
her  from  sitting  down  and  realizing  the  awful 
nature  of  this  unkind  blow  of  Fate.  For 
myself,  I  felt  no  particular  emotion — only  a 
great  responsibility  as  the  eldest  son.  I 
resolved  to  acquit  myself  worthily. 

My  father  returned  home  pending  the 
vacancy  of  a  bed  in  the  hospital — with  an  awe- 
inspiring  mass  of  bandages,  and  a  frightfully 
thin  and  white  face.  He  told  my  mother  in 


DEPTHS  75 

quite  calm,  cool  tones  that  he  expected  to  be 
in  hospital  for  three  weeks  or  a  month.  "  Hard 
lines,  old  gal,"  was  his  comment;  "but  keep 
things  going  on  until  I  come  out." 

My  mother  dried  her  tears.  A  fierce,  almost 
tigerish  look  came  over  her  face,  and  she 
replied,  "  I'll  be  father  and  mother  to  Jem ; 
don't  let  that  worry  you." 

He  went  into  the  hospital  next  day,  and  came 
out — nine  months  later.  What  a  terrible  nine 
months  that  was !  At  midnight,  when  Nature 
forced  my  wearied  frame  to  sleep,  my  eyes'  last 
gaze  was  at  my  mother  working — making 
matchboxes.  I  awoke  early  in  the  morning  to 
find  my  mother  working — making  matchboxes. 
It  took  her  some  hours  to  earn  twopence- 
farthing — the  remuneration  for  a  gross  com- 
plete. 

About  the  room  hung  a  damp,  pasty-smelling 
atmosphere — a  most  depressing  environment, 
which  lowered  vitality  and  increased  morbid- 
ness. I  have  no  doubt  my  mother  was  often 
ill  over  it,  but  she  never  complained — simply 
slaved  away  from  early  morning  to  late  night, 


76      ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

working,  working,  working — and  all  for  a  few 
beggarly  twopence-farthings.  Of  course,  the 
remuneration  was  totally  inadequate  to  keep 
the  place  going,  so  my  mother  applied  for  out- 
door relief  from  the  Board  of  Guardians.  After 
a  lot  of  bullying  we  were  doled  out  two  loaves 
of  bread  a  day;  for  which  we  were  duly  thank- 
ful, as  it  enabled  us  to  indulge  in  small  luxuries, 
such  as  an  occasional  halfpenny  kipper  or  had- 
dock and  a  touch  of  butter  between  the  family. 
The  way  my  mother  divided  the  loaves  and 
fishes  has  left  me  a  devout  believer  in  the 
miracle  by  the  Galilean  Sea. 


CHAPTER   XI 

STILL   DEEPER 

I  REMEMBER  one  raw,  bitter  night  going  with 
my  mother  to  a  police-court  missionary's  house. 
She  had  applied  for  help,  which  was  to  take 
the  form  of  blankets.  God  knows  we  needed 
them !  My  mother  had  the  two  younger 
children  in  her  bed,  whilst  I  slept  with  the 
three  others  :  two  of  us  at  the  top,  two  at  the 
bottom.  Yet  for  all  our  huddling  together  we 
lay  numbed  and  shivering. 

The  missionary's  house  lay  in  a  somewhat 
pretentious  "  residential "  district  some  miles 
distant.  After  a  wearisome  journey  we  found 
the  address,  but  the  missionary  was  out.  His 
daughter  was  "  courting "  at  the  garden  gate, 
and  after  superciliously  taking  stock  of  our 
appearance  and  errand,  advised  us  to  take  a 
walk  and  return  in  about  an  hour.  We  limped 
away,  braving  a  keen  piercing  wind,  until  in 

77 


78      ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

a  dark  shadow  we  found  a  humble  doorstep 
upon  which  we  crouched  till  we  guessed  the 
hour  was  up. 

The  dispenser  of  blankets  was  at  home.  A 
parcel  was  given  to  us  in  a  very  business-like 
manner,  we  were  shown  the  gate,  and  began 
that  weary  walk  homeward — now  buoyed  up  by 
the  knowledge  that  however  cold  and  numbed 
our  bodies  might  be  at  that  moment,  at  night 
we  should  be  warm. 

On  arriving  home  the  children  were  crying 
dismally,  in  a  room  without  fire  or  light.  The 
supply  of  both  oil  and  coal  had  become  ex- 
hausted as  the  result  of  our  long  absence  from 
home.  At  half-past  ten  I  was  sent  out  to 
borrow  a  shilling  from  a  relative,  taking  with 
me  an  oil-can,  and  a  bag  for  the  coal. 

I  reached  my  aunt's  place — it  was  in  utter 
darkness.  I  banged  at  the  door  and  was 
mocked  by  the  echo.  I  was  about  to  turn  away 
when  the  top  window  of  the  house  was  opened, 
a  head  was  thrust  out,  and  demanded — 

"What  d'yer  want?" 

"  Want  Aunt  Sarah,"  I  replied. 


STILL   DEEPER  79 

"  Well,  what  d'ye  want  her  for?  " 

"  Want  to  see  her." 

"  What  d'ye  want  to  see  her  for  ?  " 

"  To  ask  her  something." 

"Well,  come  and  ask  her  to-morrow,"  with 
which  the  window  was  closed  with  a  bang.  I 
banged  and  banged  again  at  the  knocker,  and 
at  last  heard  the  sound  of  feet  descending  the 
stairs.  Through  the  key-hole  of  the  door  I 
could  see  my  aunt  in  night  attire,  half  asleep, 
and  obviously  irritated.  The  bolts  were  drawn, 
the  door  opened  about  two  inches,  just  enough 
for  my  aunt  to  get  a  good  view  of  her  tormentor. 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?  "  she  inquired  sharply. 

"  Please,  Aunt  Sarah,"  I  said,  "  mother  said 
will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  oblige  her  with  a 
shilling?  We  ain't  got  no  coals  or  oil." 

With  a  grunting  disapproval  of  "  some 
people's  impidence"  she  shuffled  up-stairs 
again  and  down,  to  fetch  sixpence. 

"'Ere  you  are,"  she  said,  "tell  your  mother 
that's  all  I've  got." 

I  rushed  off  to  secure  seven  pounds  of  coal 
(one  penny)  and  a  pint  of  paraffin  oil  (three 


80      ONE   OF  THE   MULTITUDE 

farthings)  before  the  shops  closed.  I  was  just 
in  time  and  rushed  home  with  my  captures.  A 
fire  and  a  light  were  soon  kindled,  by  which 
the  blankets  were  inspected.  Fine  blankets 
they  were  too,  large  and  thick,  but  stamped  in 

bold  black  letters  were  the  words :  "  J 

Street  Police  Court  Blanket  Fund." 

Our  experiences  were  all  very  much  of  this 
kind  during  the  whole  of  the  nine  months; 
very  often  waking  up  in  the  morning  without 
food,  firing,  or  money,  and  conscious  that  every 
available  source  of  relief  was  closed,  except, 
of  course,  the  bread  from  the  Guardians. 

Hand-in-hand  with  the  spectre  of  poverty 
was  the  grim  shadow  of  the  Local  Sanitary  In- 
spector, who  was  expected  every  minute  to  send 
in  a  report  of  overcrowding  to  the  Council  and 
have  us  turned  out  of  house  and  home.  I  know 
him  now  as  a  kind-hearted,  humane  man,  but 
then  he  represented  "  the  powers  that  be."  To 
our  minds  at  that  time,  they  were  soulless, 
inhuman  "powers,"  mysterious  inquisitors, 
whose  one  object  was  to  get  us  all  into  the 
workhouse. 


CHAPTER    XII 

SOME   NEIGHBOURS 

ALTHOUGH  I  was  fully  determined  to  do  my 
part  in  the  struggle  against  misfortune,  I  was 
by  no  means  contented  with  my  lot. 

I  was  well  aware  that  I  had  little  in  common 
with  my  companions  and  environment.  For 
one  thing  I  had  too  much  self-esteem  quietly 
to  accept  the  social  status  in  which  I  found 
myself,  whereas,  so  far  as  I  could  see,  my  com- 
panions were  not  only  contented,  but  had  never 
thought  of  questioning  their  lives.  I  had 
always  questioned  my  environment,  although 
to  be  sure  at  first  it  caused  me  to  wonder 
whether  my  discontent  was  not  due  to  some 
moral  obliquity  or  mental  kink  which  pre- 
vented me  from  falling  peacefully  into  my 
allotted  place  and  position  in  life. 

As  I  grew  older  and  learned  the  great  lesson 
of  the  slum — to  depend  entirely  upon  myself — 
G  81 


82      ONE   OF  THE   MULTITUDE 

I  came  to  see  that  my  place  and  position  in 
life  depended  more  upon  myself  than  anybody 
else,  that  I  was  not  like  a  section  of  a  jigsaw 
puzzle,  formed  simply  for  the  purpose  of  fit- 
ting into  one  particular  corner  of  the  social 
picture ;  but  that  if  I  kept  my  ideal  of  a  steady, 
ordered,  cultured  existence  constantly  before 
me  I  should  certainly  attain  it. 

Two  quotations  constantly  ran  in  my  head; 
I  had  seen  them  somewhere,  quite  in  a  casual 
way. 

The  one — 

"  Tis  not  in  mortals  to  command  success, 
But  we'll  [I'll]  do  more,  .  .  .  deserve  it," 

of   Addison;   the   other   from   the   speech   of 
Polonius — 

"This  above  all, — To  thine  own  self  be  true; 
And  it  must  follow,  as  the  night  the  day, 
Thou  canst  not  then  be  false  to  any  man." 

These    quotations    became    my    mottoes    and 
spurred  my  soul  along  its  lonely  path. 

My  companions  prided  themselves  on  being 
"  Moors,"  because  in  Morocco  Street  there  was 
always  "something  up."  During  my  residence 


SOME   NEIGHBOURS  83 

two  murders  were  committed  by  inhabitants; 
whilst  well-known  neighbours  were  arrested 
from  time  to  time. 

There  were  enough  quarrels  to  satisfy  the 
most  blase  slum-dweller.  For  the  most  part 
these  were  conducted  in  the  open  air,  or  if  in- 
doors with  the  windows  wide  open.  As  might 
be  expected,  our  neighbours  were  a  curious  lot 
of  people,  living  curious  lives;  and  though  a 
common  sympathy  and  help  in  the  troubles  of 
life  was  in  evidence  from  neighbour  to  neigh- 
bour, the  real  facts  as  to  how  they  got  their 
living,  or  of  their  relation  to  the  outer  world, 
and  the  police,  were  guarded  very  closely 
indeed. 

There  was  Mrs.  Dartmouth,  for  instance, 
whose  business  was  so  shrouded  in  mystery  as 
to  provide  a  continual  source  of  conversation  at 
our  doorstep. 

The  query  was  how  Mrs.  Dartmouth  kept 
three  rooms  nicely  furnished  (according  to 
Moorish  ideas),  herself,  and  a  gouty  husband 
who  had  never  been  known  to  work.  I  doubt 
if  we  should  have  known  even  by  this  time  had 

G  2 


84      ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

not  a  shortage  in  business  forced  her  to  give 
up  one  of  her  rooms,  and  to  hang  a  card  in  the 
front  window.  It  was  startlingly  crude,  this 
piece  of  cardboard  with  the  words — 

"  DEAD  BODIES  WASHED  HERE  " 

written  across  it. 

That  was  how  three  rooms  and  a  gouty  hus- 
band had  been  maintained !  Being  a  woman 
of  iron  nerve  she  washed  the  bodies  of  the 
dead  before  burial,  thus  netting  a  considerable 
income  from  the  relatives,  to  whom  such  a  task 
would  have  been  awful. 

Then  there  was  Mrs.  Joyce,  who  occupied 
the  top  room  in  our  house,  and  filled  it  with 
a  loafing  husband,  a  large  family,  and  a  few 
sticks  that  only  an  auctioneer  would  have  called 
furniture.  The  lady  in  question  was  always 
most  respectably  dressed,  was  known  to  buy 
the  best  of  food,  yet  never  complained  because 
her  husband  simply  hung  about  the  local 
public-houses  all  day.  She  was,  however,  fre- 
quently observed  to  take  a  large  bundle  out  of 
the  house  and  to  return  without  it.  It  became 


SOME   NEIGHBOURS  85 

known  that  she  did  not  visit  the  local  pawn- 
broker, consequently  my  mother  and  the  land- 
lady often  assured  each  other  that  something 
"  fishy  "  was  going  on. 

The  Joyce  family  were  out  one  day  when  a 
force  of  police  came  to  search  their  room. 
They  were  kept  parleying  at  the  door  whilst 
my  mother  and  the  landlady  went  up  into  their 
room.  Finding  a  large  amount  of  obviously 
stolen  property,  they  hurriedly  stowed  it  away 
down-stairs  in  a  large  copper  with  the  washing. 
By  the  time  the  police  forced  an  entrance,  of 
course  all  the  evidences  of  her  business  had 
been  removed. 

My  mother  and  the  landlady  had,  of  course, 
no  complicity  in  the  "  hook-and-eye  "  business, 
as  thieving  is  termed,  but  had  acted  from  that 
feeling  of  uniting  against  the  law  which  is  so 
strong  in  such  streets.  When  Mrs.  Joyce, 
shoplifter,  and  her  family  returned,  they  were 
promptly  bidden  to  "  clear  out  of  it." 

I  believe  Mrs.  Joyce  was  somewhat  torn 
about  in  the  fight  that  ensued.  Anyway,  she 
promptly  moved  out  of  our  street  and  lives. 


86      ONE  OF  THE   MULTITUDE 

The  Timminses,  who  lived  next  door,  were 
also  notable  people  to  whom  the  torch  of 
Micawber  seemed  to  have  been  handed  down. 
"John  Timmins,  Esqre.,"  as  he  figured  in  his 
bill-heads  and  local  "  Friendly  Lead  "  tickets, 
was  a  master  chairmaker.  That  is  to  say,  he 
stood  at  the  street  door  all  day,  with  only  a 
waistcoat  protecting  his  undershirt  from  the 
gaze  of  the  public,  whilst  his  sons  worked  like 
Trojans  (if  somewhat  spasmodically)  for  a  bare 
subsistence — and  the  paternal  blessing.  The 
sons  always  worked  right  through  the  Friday 
night,  being  at  the  bench  for  practically  thirty 
hours  at  a  stretch,  whilst  Timmins  Senior  was 
probably  rendering  "  Yes  !  Let  me  like  a  Soldier 
fall "  at  some  local  gathering  of  topers.  As  he 
always  insisted  on  singing  something  "  hopper- 
attic"  in  his  tin-kettle  of  a  voice,  he  acquired 
a  reputation  for  being  musically  inclined  and 
being  a  lover  of  the  Arts.  He  was  a  large  bull- 
necked  person,  whose  main  contribution  to 
conversation  consisted  of  saying  "  Eh ! "  in  a 
knowing  sort  of  way,  at  the  same  time  thrusting 
out  his  neck  to  its  uttermost  limit. 


SOME   NEIGHBOURS  87 

The  family  dining-table  was  a  disused  bench 
which  still  retained  its  old-time  saw-cuts  and 
hard  cakes  of  glue,  upon  which  the  plates 
rocked  precariously.  They  had  two  beds,  one 
for  the  parents  and  one  for  the  girls  :  the  boys 
slept  on  the  floor.  The  whole  family  washed 
themselves  every  morning  from  a  pail  in  the 
backyard.  They  were,  of  course,  very  poor,  but 
were  all  blessed  with  a  splendid  imagination. 
They  would  tell  you  of  their  magnificent  furni- 
ture ;  their  eyes  would  glisten  as  they  described 
in  detail  their  fine  dining-table  with  carved 
legs;  their  washing  apparatus  was  of  almost 
china-like  fineness  upon  stands  of  the  purest 
marble — and  so  they  would  lie,  magnificently. 
They  would  boast  of  their  beautiful  home, 
their  grand,  indeed  luxurious,  habits  of  living; 
the  whole  family  always  seemed  to  be  on  the 
eve  of  a  complete  change  of  clothing,  which 
was  deferred  week  by  week  till  at  last  their  old 
garments  would  be  so  threadbare  and  worn 
that  fresh  clothes  were  absolutely  essential  to 
cover  their  nakedness.  Even  then  the  children 
were  lucky  if  they  got  a  very  second-hand  set 


88      ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

of  clothing,  a  complete  outfit  costing  about  two 
shillings  "  down  the  Lane."  In  this  the  pos- 
sessor would  patronize  other  less  fortunate 
youths,  and  instruct  them  in  the  art  of  knowing 
a  good  piece  of  cloth  when  they  saw  it. 

To  boast  was  the  common  attribute  of  the 
whole  family.  If  I  went  a  walk  with  Timmins 
Junior,  and  saw  a  fine  piece  of  furniture  in  a 
shop  window,  "We've  got  one  of  those  at 
home,"  he  would  say.  One  day  we  saw  a  fine 
bedroom  suite,  "  Ours  is  just  like  that,  only 
bigger,"  he  said,  "  and  our  washhand-stand's  got 
two  basins."  This  to  one  who  saw  the  whole 
family  wash  out  of  a  pail  in  the  backyard  every 
morning ! 

A  wave  of  piano-respectability  came  into  the 
street;  so  the  Timminses  got  one  on  the  hire- 
purchase  system.  The  whole  local  population 
stood  round  the  window  when  the  men  hoisted 
it  in,  to  whom  Mrs.  Timmins  described  what 
the  transaction  had  been  when  she  went  to 
choose  it :  "  Eighteen  guineas  down,  it  was," 
she  told  them;  "he  wouldn't  take  a  farthing 
less.  Of  course  it's  a  good  *un." 


SOME   NEIGHBOURS  89 

At  our  doorstep  it  was  said  that  little  Tommy 
Timmins  had  lost  his  sleeping-place  because 
of  that  piano,  but  then  envy  has  a  lot  to  do 
with  reports  like  that. 

The  Timminses  certainly  had  the  glory  of 
possessing  the  piano,  but  none  of  them  knew 
how  to  play  it.  So  upon  special  occasions  a 
youthful  prodigy  was  imported,  who  was  an 
adept  at  "  The  Blue  Bells  of  Scotland "  with 
variations,  which  she  played  for  half-an-hour 
off  the  reel,  to  the  complete  satisfaction  of  the 
party. 

The  shutters  were  never  closed  on  these 
evenings,  so  quite  a  large  crowd  would 
assemble  outside  the  house  and  loudly  encore 
any  particularly  brilliant  piece  of  fingering. 

They  were  certainly  among  the  most  anxious 
of  all  the  "  Moors "  to  become  respectable,  in 
keeping  with  which  ambition  Maud  brought 
home  a  young  man  wearing  a  "  top-hat." 

There  was  a  friendly  rivalry  about  being 
respectable  between  the  Timminses  and  the 
Potters.  Something  was  said  at  our  doorstep 
about  Penny  Heads  and  Farthing  Tails,  but, 


90      ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

generally  speaking,  it  was  considered  that  the 
street  had  been  honoured.  Of  course  the 
youthful  Timminses  were  very  cocky  about  it, 
and  indicated  that  they  all  took  turns  to  brush 
the  hat  when  the  owner — a  tall,  gawky  youth 
facetiously  dubbed  "Wee  McGregor" — made 
his  appearance.  This  great  importation  finally 
took  up  his  abode  with  the  Timminses,  where  he 
was  installed  in  the  best  room  and  was  success- 
fully hoodwinked  as  to  the  family  resources 
and  social  standing  until  he  finally  married 
Maud,  and  moved  into  higher  social  spheres 
among  shop-keepers. 

But  I  must  cease  to  write  of  the  Timminses, 
lest  my  pen  carry  me  into  the  heart  of  their 
adventures  and  unto  my  last  page.  The 
Timminses  need  a  book  to  themselves. 


CHAPTER     XIII 

THE    CALL    OF    SPRING 

ANOTHER  house  in  Morocco  Street,  a  few 
doors  from  ourselves,  was  occupied  by  a 
cobbler  in  a  small  way  of  business,  over  whose 
street  door  was  painted  the  words — 

"  THE  LITTLE  WONDER." 

Through  his  window,  behind  rows  of  heavy 
second-hand  boots  for  sale,  could  be  seen  Mr. 
Jordan  working  at  his  last,  the  cheery  thud  of 
his  hammer  generally  sounding  until  ten  o'clock 
at  night.  To  us  children  a  circle  of  light  was 
as  attractive  for  play  as  a  candle  to  a  moth. 
And  so  it  came  about  that  the  pavement  in 
front  of  Mr.  Jordan's  front  parlour  shop  win- 
dow was  the  recognized  area  for  certain  games 
after  nightfall. 

Mr.  Jordan  was  far  from  appreciating  this 
use  of  his  illumination;  it  prevented  potential 
customers  from  looking  at  the  boots  for  sale,  he 

91 


92      ONE   OF  THE   MULTITUDE 

considered,  and  so  cleared  us  all  away  every 
half -hour  or  so. 

The  cobbler  was  a  Northampton  man,  who 
had  gravitated  to  the  city  of  gold,  hoping  to 
make  a  fortune;  but  was  now,  at  the  age  of 
thirty-two,  becoming  reconciled  to  a  poor  living 
in  a  poor  district,  partly  because  of  having 
become  disillusioned,  but  mainly  because  a  wife 
and  four  children  were  dependent  upon  him. 

Once  or  twice  I  fetched  some  beer  for  him 
from  a  local  public-house,  which  procured  me 
a  right  of  entry,  in  a  way,  to  see  him  at  work. 

During  the  winter  months  he  was  always  busy 
enough  to  employ  an  old  man  of  rugged 
appearance  with  a  shock  of  grey  hair  and 
bright,  intelligent  eyes.  "  Old  Bill  "  was  the 
only  name  he  was  known  by — even  I  called 
him  "Old  Bill." 

While  the  nights  were  long,  and  cold,  rain, 
and  frost  most  typical  of  the  weather,  "Old 
Bill "  would  sit  at  his  bench,  heel-balling  or 
sewing  as  patiently  as  anybody;  but  as  soon  as 
the  sap  began  to  rise,  and  the  buds  to  burst  on 
the  trees,  he  would  get  fidgety,  would  rise  from 


THE   CALL  OF  SPRING          93 

his  stool,  and,  going  to  the  door,  would  look  at 
the  sky,  with  his  hand  shading  his  eyes. 

"Weather  breaking,  eh?"  Jordan  com- 
mented. 

"Yes,"  the  old  cobbler  would  reply,  as  if  a 
new  spirit  had  entered  into  him. 

"Want  to  be  off?"  His  employer  took  a 
delight  in  putting  these  leading  questions  to 
him. 

"Not  just  yet,"  "Old  Bill"  replied;  "but 
very  soon,  very  soon." 

As  the  days  lengthened  his  eyes  fairly 
glowed  with  anticipation,  his  restiveness 
increased. 

One  evening  I  called  in  at  Jordan's  to  find 
a  vacant  chair.  "Where's  Old  Bill?"  I 
inquired. 

"  God  knows,"  was  the  reply.  "  Somewhere 
in  the  country  by  now,  getting  fresh  air  and 
seeing  things." 

"  Does  he  go  away  every  year  ? "  I  asked. 

"  He  has,  ever  since  I've  known  him,  George. 
He's  got  the  wandering  spirit,  and  when  he  sees 
the  green  leaves  a-coming  on  the  trees  he  has 


94      ONE   OF  THE  MULTITUDE 

to  go  out  and  taste  the  country  air;  it  would  kill 
him  to  stop  here  all  the  year  round." 

"And  how  does  he  get  his  living?" 

"  I  don't  suppose  he  knows,  George,  any 
more  than  you  do.  He's  got  a  mouth,  and  it's 
got  to  be  filled — and  he  gets  it  filled,  and  that's 
all  about  it" 

:<  Yes,  but  still,"  I  would  persist,  "  you  have 
to  have  money  to  buy  food ;  and  where  does  he 
get " 

"  Now  don't  ask  any  more  questions, 
George,"  were  his  final  words  on  the  matter; 
"  but  go  in  the  next  room  and  ask  Mrs.  Jordan 
for  a  jug,  and  get  me  half-a-pint  of  the  finest 
stout  and  mild,  and  ask  the  man  to  pull  hard 
at  the  handle,  because  it's  for  a  working  man 
who's  very  thirsty." 

The  following  winter  "  Old  Bill "  turned  up 
again,  bronzed  and  tattered,  with  old  bits  of 
string  keeping  his  clothes  together ;  and  settled 
down  again  for  a  spell  of  shop  work. 

Just  about  Christmas  Mr.  Jordan  unfortu- 
nately caught  a  severe  cold,  which  made  him 
very  weak,  and  so  incapacitated  him  that  most 


THE  CALL  OF  SPRING          95 

of  the  work  was  thrown  upon  "Old  Bill's" 
shoulders. 

"  Bill,"  Jordan  said  one  night  after  he  had 
been  coughing  a  good  deal,  "  I  believe  I'm 
looking  forward  to  the  spring  as  much  as  you 


are." 


"  Dessay  you  are,  mate,"  he  replied,  "  but 
look  sharp  and  get  rid  of  that  cough;  it's  a 
reg'lar  graveyard  cough  that  is.  I  don't  like 
the  sound  on  it." 

"I'm  all  right,  Bill,"  Jordan  replied,  "don't 
you  worry  about  me." 

January  and  February  came  and  went,  but 
Jordan  was  no  better;  he  grew  paler  if  possible, 
his  eyes  began  to  stare  at  one. 

"  Don't  like  the  looks  o'  you,  mate,"  said 
"Old  Bill,"  "better  see  a  doctor." 

Still  Jordan  was  sure  he  would  soon  be 
better.  "  Next  month's  April,"  he  said  as 
gaily  as  possible ;  "  I'll  be  all  right  before  you 
go." 

I  could  see  that  "  Old  Bill "  was  feeling  the 
wander  spirit  coming  over  him,  but  he  said 
nothing  to  me. 


96      ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

Then  Jordan  was  seen  by  a  doctor,  who 
ordered  him  to  bed  immediately. 

"  Poor  Old  Bill,"  he  said  to  him  one  'day, 
"  I  know  you  want  to  get  off,  but  you  won't 
just  yet,  will  you?  There's  work  to  do  and 
only  you  to  do  it ;  I'll  be  all  right  soon." 

April  went  and  May.  Jordan  was  moved  to 
a  hospital.  All  the  life  and  spirit  seemed  to 
die  out  of  "  Old  Bill,"  his  face  became  haggard, 
he  seemed  to  become  just  a  tottering  old  man. 

June  and  July  came — and  went,  and  then 
we  heard  that  Jordan  was  consumptive.  In 
August  he  died.  "  Old  Bill "  did  not  stay  long 
after  that.  I  saw  a  new  man  working  in  the 
shop  one  day.  I  poked  my  head  in  at  the  door, 
and  said,  "Where's  Old  Bill,  mister?" 

"  I  don't  know  any  Old  Bills,"  he  growled, 
"  and  what's  more,  I  don't  want  to." 


CHAPTER   XIV 

MUSICAL 

IN  common  with  the  other  small  boys  of  our 
street  I  was  supposed  to  be  the  "  young  man  " 
of  one  of  the  small  girls — in  this  case,  one 
Polly  Smeeton,  a  girl  of  infinite  plaits  and  but 
little  variety  of  temper. 

So  far  as  I  remember  there  was  not  the 
slightest  affection  between  us.  We  were  always 
falling  out  with  each  other  in  anger  and  re- 
uniting with  diffidence.  A  boy  had  worked  me 
into  fighting  him  one  day  upon  the  purely 
speculative  question  as  to  which  of  us  Polly 
Smeeton  liked  the  best.  By  winning  the  fight, 
I  won  the  fair  damsel,  to  my  abiding  sorrow 
and  periodical  distress  of  mind ;  for  to  say  the 
least  of  it,  she  was  very  captious.  The  alliance, 
however,  was  desirable  in  some  ways,  for  the 
Smeetons  were  possessed  of  a  large  shed  in 

their  backyard,  a  remarkable  contrivance  built 
H  97 


98      ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

of  wood,  in  which  I  and  Teddy  Smeeton,  the 
fair  one's  brother,  often  larked  about. 

During  my  father's  absence,  adversity  had 
sharpened  my  wits  enough  to  enable  me  to  get 
money  in  various  ways.  Two  methods  that 
recur  to  me  were  roller-skate  dealing,  and 
cigarette-picture  transactions. 

I  gave  twopence  for  a  roller-skate  in  the  first 
place  (borrowed  capital),  for  which,  after  per- 
forming certain  graceful  evolutions  before  an 
admiring  crowd  of  boys,  I  obtained  sixpence. 

With  the  sixpence  I  bought  another — a  four- 
penny  skate ;  paid  back  my  twopence,  and  sold 
this  last  for  eightpence,  and  so  on  until  the 
game  was  played  out. 

Then  I  took  up  cigarette-pictures,  of  which  I 
bought  from  other  boys  a  halfpennyworth  (six), 
I  played  the  others  "  up  the  line "  and  won 
every  card  they  possessed.  (The  "  line  "  is  a 
pavement  joint  at  a  convenient  distance  from 
the  kerb;  we  stood  in  the  gutter  and  scaled 
our  cards  as  skilfully  as  possible  up  to  the  line ; 
throwing  six  each,  the  one  getting  most  cards 
on  or  near  the  line  capturing  the  whole  twelve.) 


MUSICAL  99 

After  winning  I  sold  to  two  of  the  boys  a 
pennyworth  each  and  defeated  them  again. 
In  a  single  Sunday  I  made  ninepence  in  this 
way.  Thus  I  was  able  to  buy  Dick's  Com- 
plete Shakespeare — sixpence;  and  to  have  a 
seat  in  the  "  gods  "  of  the  local  music-hall,  in 
company  with  Teddy  Smeeton. 

It  was  the  usual  sort  of  performance  :  young 
ladies  who  sang  about  nothing  in  particular;  a 
bull-necked  individual,  with  a  flag  in  one  hand 
and  a  sword  in  the  other,  who  roundly  declared 
that  "  Britons  "  were  "  going  to  do  or  die  " ;  the 
usual  lurid  sketch;  and,  best  of  all,  the  red- 
nosed  heavy  comics. 

How  we  loved  those  "brothers"  who 
thumped  each  other  on  their  pillow-stuffed 
breasts !  They  parodied  the  first  verse  of 
"  Casabianca  "  thus — 

"  The  Boy  stood  on  the  burning  deck, 
The  Crew  they  played  at  Banker, 
The  Captain  swore  he'd  break  his  neck, 
And  calmly  dropped  the  anchor." 

But  the  great  hit  of  the  evening  was  the  star 
comedian,  who  sang  a  song  called  "  Waiting 


H  2 


100    ONE   OF   THE  MULTITUDE 

there  for  me,"  in  which  he  detailed  the  anxiety 
prevailing  in  certain  quarters  for  his  return. 
The  house  rose  as  one  man  to  this  great  song. 
.With  one  voice  we  echoed  "Waiting  there  for 
me." 

"Grand,  ain't  it?/'  Smeeton  nudged  me  as 
he  spoke.  "  He's  a  wunner,  he  is !  " 

The  star  comedian  retired  amid  whistling, 
cat-calls,  and  the  cry  of  "  'Core  !  'core  !  " 

We  went  home  with  "  Waiting  there  for  me  " 
on  our  lips,  and  a  bold  idea  in  our  minds :  we 
would  start  a  street  music-hall  in  Smeeton's 
shed. 

Later  on  young  Philips  was  taken  into  our 
confidence.  Philips  was  a  bloated  capitalist, 
had  money,  could  always  be  relied  upon  for 
threepence  at  least,  often  went  to  a  music-hall, 
and  could  fight  well. 

We  found  an  orange-box  that  would  do  for 
the  stage.  Smeeton  said  his  mother  would  lend 
us  a  blanket  for  the  curtain;  was,  in  fact,  so 
certain  of  her  permission  that  he  took  it  without 
asking.  Then  we  procured  a  long  narrow  box, 
and  placed  a  candle  inside  for  the  limelight. 


MUSICAL  101 

I  was  deputed  stage-manager,  curtain  manipu- 
lator, and  chief  artiste.  The  affair  was  well 
advertised  verbally  :  "Admission,  one  farthing; 
unparalleled  array  of  talent,"  etc.,  etc. 

Finishing  touches  were  given  to  the  stage, 
and  we  prepared  for  our  first  performance.  A 
mob  of  some  thirty  boys  and  girls  were  waiting 
outside  half-an-hour  before  the  time.  They 
were  pushing  and  fighting  each  other  from  the 
door — a  kaleidoscope  of  humanity  in  miniature. 

"'Ark  at  'em!"  Smeeton's  face  blanched. 
"  You  don't  stop  it,"  he  threatened  the  crowd, 
"  our  ole  gal  'ill  'ear  you  in  a  minute,  anH  she 
won't  'arf  wallop  the  lot  of  yer !  " 

We  took  the  farthings  quickly  from  all  but 
a  few  of  the  dreaded  click,  Braid  and  his 
friends,  who  said,  "We'll  punch  you  in  the 
jaw  if  you  try  to  stop  us  comin'  in."  And  so, 
after  many  jangles  and  "offerings  out,"  we 
seated  the  audience  on  the  floor. 

I  got  behind  the  curtain,  and  told  Smeeton 
to  go  on  first.  After  much  disputation  I  finally- 
stepped  on  to  that  unsafe  orange-box,  and 
louHly  whispered  'directions  for  raising  the 


102    ONE   OF  THE   MULTITUDE 

curtain.  Smeeton  tugged  for  some  minutes, 
but  without  success;  the  Braid  click  started  a 
concert  of  their  own,  whilst  I  still  stood  upon 
the  stage,  trembling  at  the  coming  ordeal. 

I  had  to  go  round  to  the  front  and  pull  the 
curtain  up";  then  the  limelight  fell  over. 

I  eventually  sang  "  Waiting  there  for  me  " ; 
but  so  did  everybody  else;  there  was  nothing 
of  the  solo  about  it ;  in  fact,  there  was  no  appre- 
ciable difference  of  sound  when  I  had  vacated 
the  stage  for  the  next  turn — Philips.  A  thick- 
set, heavy  boy  was  Philips,  whose  only  accom- 
plishment was  to  recite  "  Casabianca,"  into 
which  he  wove  the  music-hall  parodies.  He 
wore  a  huge  property  beard ;  nobody  knew  why, 
except  that,  as  he  had  it,  he  might  as  well  wear 
it.  With  arms  swinging  violently,  his  feet 
stamping  upon  the  treacherous  orange-box,  he 
declaimed  passionately. 

The  audience  was  listening  attentively,  when 
a  fight  broke  out  near  the  limelight.  Two  boys 
threw  themselves  at  each  other,  the  rest  of  the 
audience  rising  to  "  see  it  out."  When  this 
little  fight  was  settled,  Philips  resumed  his  turn, 


MUSICAL  103 

and,  by  way  of  emphasis,  gave  a  special  stamp 
with  his  foot,  whereat  the  orange-box  collapsed, 
Philips  spread-eagled  himself  upon  the  assem- 
bled company,  bringing  down  the  blanket  also 
in  his  fall.  Heaps  of  dust  that  had  accumu- 
lated upon  the  beams  of  the  old  shed  tumbled 
down  upon  the  struggling,  amazed  mass  be- 
neath ;  our  music-hall  venture  dissolved  before 
our  eyes  into  a  promiscuous  battle.  Philips, 
extricating  himself  with  difficulty,  joined  Smee- 
ton  and  myself  at  the  door  of  the  shed  to  dis- 
cover some  means  of  getting  the  audience  out 
of  the  yard.  It  seemed  to  be  a  herculean  task. 
Now  and  again  a  board  would  be  broken,  and 
a  boy  come  crawling  through  the  side  of  the 
shed,  echoing  the  pandemonium  raging  within. 

"  I  dunno  what  to  do,"  we  severally 
exclaimed. 

"Oh!  don't  cher?"  interrupted  Mrs.  Smee- 
ton,  who  had  crept  out  of  the  house,  holding  a 
hand-broom  as  an  Indian  would  a  tomahawk. 
"Don't  cher?"  she  whooped.  "My — best — 
blanket !  "  she  punctuated  between  the  blows 
she  rained  upon  us, 


104    ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

We  fled  ...  as  far  as  possible  from  the 
vision  of  Mrs.  Smeeton  chasing  a  chastened 
mob  out  of  her  yard,  and  mourning  over  her 
best  blanket. 

We  never  talked  of  music-hall  or  dramatic 
ventures  after  that.  We  agreed  that  the  street, 
and  our  mothers,  were  incapable  of  appreciat- 
ing great  minds  such  as  ours.  Mrs.  Smeeton 
roundly  declared  that  her  little  Teddy  had  been 
led  away  by  me,  and  forthwith  forbade  me  to 
play  with  her  Teddy  or  her  Polly. 

The  diversion  created  by  this  affair  was  soon 
overlaid  by  new  and  more  important  happen- 
ings. My  father  at  last  returned — attenuated 
in  appearance,  his  face  bearing  the  drawn, 
sorrowful  expression  that  betokens  much  pain. 
He  could  not  work  yet  awhile,  so  various 
friends  and  relatives  set  about  organizing  a 
"  friendly  lead."  At  a  local  public-house  a 
sing-song  took  place,  "  artistes "  volunteering 
from  the  assembled  company.  The  tickets  of 
admittance  to  this  were  threepence  each,  whilst 
during  the  evening  the  plate  was  passed  round 
several  times.  Each  ticket  was  numbered,  and 


MUSICAL  105 

was  to  be  retained  after  the  "  grand  concert "  in 
order  to  participate  in  the  "  draw,"  or  lottery  of 
goods  enumerated  and  listed  upon  the  tickets. 

The  goods  were  given  by  various  friends  and 
relatives,  and  every  one,  I  am  sure,  was  a 
sacrifice.  My  father's  brother  gave  a  silver 
watch,  which,  I  am  sure,  was  the  pride  of  his 
heart.  Unfortunately  some  people  had  taken 
books  of  tickets  (a  book  was  twelve),  for  which 
they  never  paid,  although  they  sold  them  to 
others.  So,  in  some  cases,  prize-winners  had 
not  contributed  anything  to  our  funds,  which 
swelled  to  about  nine  pounds  as  the  result  of 
the  "  friendly  lead." 

Upon  this  money  we  lived  until  my  father 
went  back  to  work  (lame,  to  be  sure);  and  life 
resumed  its  somewhat  humdrum  course  for  us 
all,  until,  at  the  age  of  twelve,  I  was  withdrawn 
from  school  and  sent  out  "to  find  a  job." 


CHAPTER   XV 

I    AM    LAUNCHED 

MY  twelfth  Christmas  was  a  melancholy 
feast — a  time  of  forced  gaiety  and  unsuccessful 
songs,  only  illuminated  for  me  by  the  announce- 
ment that  I  was  never  going  back  to  school 
again,  and  that  immediately  after  Christmas  I 
was  to  go  out  to  work  and  commence  life  in 
earnest. 

What  I  was  to  do,  or  where  I  should  obtain 
a  situation,  was  wrapped  in  the  mystery  of  the 
future. 

At  last  the  great  day  dawned.  I  was  simply 
given  three  slices  of  bread-and-butter  and  sent 
out  at  nine  o'clock  that  morning,  with  the 
parental  injunction  not  to  return  without  "get- 
ting a  job." 

I  wandered  miles  that  day,  every  step  caus- 
ing me  to  shed  a  portion  of  my  preconceived 
idea  of  a  world  anxious  to  obtain  my  services, 
and  eager  to  enlist  a  modern  Whittington  in  its 


I   AM   LAUNCHED  107 

service.  I  devoured  the  provender,  and  wished 
for  more,  but  plodded  on,  heedless  of  hunger, 
anxious  only  to  be  able  to  return  and  say,  "  I've 
got  a  job." 

The  world  seemed  very  well  contented  with- 
out rny  services.  I  felt  rather  aggrieved  at 
this,  and  eventually  retraced  my  steps,  although 
unwilling  to  own  defeat  for  the  day. 

One  often  goes  round  the  world  for  what 
lies  at  hand.  It  was  so  with  me,  for  after  all 
my  wanderings  it  was  in  the  very  next  turning 
to  Morocco  Street  that  I  came  across  a  pudding 
shop  needing  a  boy.  Off  came  my  cap  as  I 
entered  the  shop,  and  stammered  out — 

"  Please  d'you  want  a  boy?" 

"  H'm !  I'm  afraid  you're  not  big  enough, 
we  want  some  one  about  seventeen,"  the  good 
lady  replied. 

"  But  I'm  strong,"  I  said,  "  and  I  don't  mind 
working." 

"Well,  how  much  do  you  want  a  week?" 
she  inquired,  after  a  thorough  observation  of 
my  size  and  apparent  capabilities. 

"  What  are  you  offering  ?  "  I  inquired. 


108    ONE   OF  THE   MULTITUDE 

"Well," — she  came  from  behin'd  the  counter 
to  get  a  better  view  of  me  as  she  spoke — "  I'll 
give  you  four  shillings  a  week — that's  with 
your  food  as  well,  you  know." 

"All  right,"  I  replied;  "can  I  start  now?" 
And  I  did. 

As  eight  o'clock  approached  that  evening  I 
was  all  impatience  to  be  able  to  leave  work 
an'd  rush  home  so  that  I  might  tell  out  the  glad 
tidings,  "  I've  got  a  job'!  " 

My  situation  was  not  very  agreeable  :  the 
shop-keepers  were  very  exacting,  and  the  shop 
was  not  over-clean.  I  saw  a  beetle  crawling 
amid  the  large  "  Leg  of  Beef  "  soup  tins,  which 
inclines  me  to  believe  a  story  I  have  often  been 
told  in  connection  with  the  place. 

A  man  bought  some  "  Leg  of  Beef  "  soup, 
at  the  bottom  of  which  he  found  the  body  of  a 
dead  mouse.  Holding  it  between  his  fingers 
he  approached  the  counter,  and  said,  "  Hi ! 
guv'nor,  I've  found  a  mouse  in  your  soup,"  to 
which  my  employer  was  said  to  have  replied, 
"  Well,  what  did  you  expect  for  your  twopence 
—a  rat?" 


I   AM    LAUNCHED  109 

When  I  told  them  at  home  of  my  luck,  they 
shook  their  heads,  and  darkly  muttered  some- 
thing about  learning  a  trade. 

"What  trade?"  I  asked. 

"  Why,  anything  you  can  get,  so  long  as  it's 
a  trade,"  without  the  slightest  indication  of 
method  or  means. 

"  But  you  said,  '  Don't  come  home  without 
getting  a  job!  '  didn't  you?  How  can  I  pick 
and  choose  under  those  conditions? "  I  argued. 

The  reply  to  this  was,  "  You're  getting 
too  big  for  your  boots,  and  you'll  have  it 
knocked  out  of  you  if  you're  not  civil." 

I  went  to  work  early  in  the  morning  and 
failed  in  the  first  task  that  I  was  set,  which  was 
to  take  down  the  shutters  :  huge  things  they 
were.  I  blithely  loosed  the  bolts,  took  down 
the  iron,  spat  upon  my  hands,  and  pulled  at 
number  i  shutter.  It  stuck  for  a  moment  and 
then  suddenly  started  from  its  place,  over- 
whelming me  with  its  unexpected  weight.  It 
fell  with  a  crash  upon  the  pavement,  and  took 
me  with  it. 

My  employer    came  out   to  see  what  had 


110    ONE   OF  THE   MULTITUDE 

occurred.  I  jumped  up  with  alacrity  :  "  Get- 
ting them  down,  sir,"  I  cheerfully  said. 

There  was  no  reply  for  a  minute  or  two, 
when  he  said,  "  So  it  seems.  Get  inside  and 
start  peeling  potatoes." 

I  had  been  peeling  potatoes  for  about  three 
hours  at  a  stretch,  when  I  was  given  a  clean 
apron  and  the  name  of  William,  and  instructed 
in  the  pudding-shop  vocabulary,  in  preparation 
for  the  coming  dinner-time  raid.  Suddenly, 
upon  one  o'clock  striking,  the  shop  filled  with 
a  large  number  of  men  and  boys,  who  shouted 
their  orders  at  the  top  of  their  voices.  I  was 
bewildered  by  the  great  demand  for  my  atten- 
tions, but  struggled  valiantly  with  the  "penny 
pie  and  half  of  boiled  potatoes  "  each  and  every 
voice  seemed  to  clamour  for.  Then  as  sud- 
denly as  the  tumult  had  begun,  it  ceased.  The 
shop  became  empty  before  I  was  aware  every- 
body had  been  served,  and  so  my  first  great 
trial  was  over.  My  next  duty  was  to  clean 
plates,  knives  and  forks  until  at  about  half-past 
three  I  received  my  dinner  of  what  was  left. 

The   day   wore   on   without   any   particular 


1    AM   LAUNCHED  111 

diversion  till,  at  about  seven  o'clock  in  the 
evening,  I  perceived  a  group  of  small  boys 
flattening  their  noses  against  the  shop  window 
and  devouring  with  their  eyes  every  little 
particle  of  pudding.  Then  one  or  two  darted 
to  the  door,  small  heads  bobbed  in  and  out  of 
the  shop.  "  Jor — ge  !  Jor — ge  !  "  they  loudly 
whispered.  "  Well !  well !  well !  "  said  milady, 
"  this'll  never  do ;  go  and  turn  'em  away."  I 
went  to  the  door  and  entreated  them  to  depart, 
but  without  success.  Finally  I  said,  "  I'm 
sure  I'll  get  the  sack  if  you  don't  go  away." 
They  made  a  great  show  of  departing,  but  for 
the  rest  of  the  evening  one  head  after  another 
bobbed  round  the  corner  and  whispered 
"Jor-ge." 

The  next  morning  a  young  man  going  to 
work  was  subsidized  to  take  'down  the  shutters, 
a  task  he  repeated  every  morning  during  my 
stay,  thus  causing  my  employer  additional  ex- 
pense. These  incidents  no  doubt  influenced 
him  to  say  when  paying  my  wages,  "  Can't  give 
you  more  than  three  shillings  next  week  if  you 
like  to  stop." 


112    ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

I  told  my  mother  of  the  "  Irishman's  rise  "  I 
was  about  to  get,  in  consequence  of  which  it  was 
agreed  that  I  must  find  another  job — this  time, 
a  trade.  I  was  told  to  come  home  to  dinner  on 
Monday  whether  I  had  got  a  job  or  not,  and 
did  so  without  any  prospect  of  employment. 

It  so  happened  that  I  was  next  door,  in 
Timmins's  shop  (a  miniature  boxing  arena,  I 
may  say,  on  Mondays),  when  my  brother 
pushed  his  way  through  the  broken  fence  and 
said,  "  Father  wants  you." 

I  went  indoors  and  learned  from  my  father 
that  he  had  spoken  to  young  Braid  with  a  view 
to  getting  a  job  for  me  at  his  place  of  business. 
Braid  was  the  son  of  one  of  my  father's  shop- 
mates  and  had  been  out  at  work  for  some  few 
weeks.  I  was  to  go  with  him  at  two  o'clock 
and  see  the  "  guv'nor." 

It  was  a  very  cold  day,  so  round  my  neck  and 
most  of  my  body  was  wound  a  huge  knitted 
scarf — a  gift  from  the  Sunday  School  Christ- 
mas treat.  It  made  me  feel  warm,  although  it 
also  made  my  coat  somewhat  too  tight  to  button 
up  comfortably. 


I   AM   LAUNCHED  113 

"  Wait  outside  the  door  until  you  see  a  fat 
man  come  along,"  said  Braid,  "  then  ask  him  if 
he  wants  a  boy ;  'cos  he's  the  guv'nor." 

When  the  fat  man  did  appear,  I  repeated 
Braid's  formula,  "  Please,  sir,  do  you  want  a 
boy?" 

"  Not  to-day,  sonny,  not  to-day,"  he  replied 
not  unkindly — at  which  I  returned  home. 

Braid  called  for  me  when  he  left  off  work 
that  night,  and  told  me  some  mistake  had  been 
made.  He  had  asked  the  governor  if  he  had 
seen  me,  to  which  he  had  replied,  "  What,  that 
bright  little  lad,  d'ye  mean?  I  didn't  think  of 
the  boy  you  were  going  to  bring,  tell  him  to 
come  to-morrow."  So  on  the  morrow  I  started 
work  at  Smith  &  Veal's  shop-fitting  factory. 

Every  morning  I  called  for  Braid,  who  lived 
in  Turkey  Lane,  one  of  the  worst  culs-de-sac 
in  London,  a  turning  I  was  always  afraid  to 
enter.  He  was  a  heavy  sleeper,  and  sometimes 
I  would  bang  at  his  knockerless  door  for  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  and  then  have  to  depart 
without  him. 

My  position  was  that  of  shop-boy — an  elastic 


term  which  I  found  covered  many  duties, — the 
most  serious  (for  the  men)  being  that  of  cooking 
their  dinners.  I  soon  learned  to  fry  bacon  to 
a  turn,  for  lunch;  whilst  ordinary  dinners  such 
as  fried  mutton  cutlets,  with  potatoes  and 
cabbage,  were  soon  easily  within  my  reach. 
It  was  rather  unfortunate,  though,  that  upon  the 
day  of  my  arrival  the  men  fancied  an  Irish  stew. 
I  asked  one  or  two  of  the  workmen  for  a  few 
particulars;  they  only  knew  that  a  stew  was 
stewed — that  is,  boiled  and  left  to  simmer.  I 
worked  upon  that,  and  got  a  saucepan  half  full 
of  water  into  which  I  dropped  meat,  potatoes, 
pot-herbs  and  a  little  barley,  made  up  a  great 
fire  of  shavings  and  firewood,  and  left  it  to 
stew. 

They  never  complained  about  it,  only  the 
silent  testimony  of  the  large  dishful  which 
remained  from  dinner  rebuked  me  for  my 
culinary  failure. 

I  had  been  out  to  work  some  six  weeks  when 
the  School  Board  began  to  busy  themselves 
about  me.  The  automatic  age  for  leaving  was 
fourteen,  but  at  thirteen  it  was  possible  to  get  a 


I   AM   LAUNCHED  115 

labour  certificate  by  passing  a  sixth  standard 
examination. 

It  was  decided  that  I  could  leave  if  I  passed 
the  seventh  standard.  Consequently  I  got  a 
Saturday  morning  off  from  work  on  some  pre- 
text or  other,  sat  for  my  exam.,  and  fortunately 
passed. 

At  Smith  &  Veal's  were  employed  a  num- 
ber of  lads  aged  from  fifteen  to  eighteen,  with 
whom  I  took  my  teas.  I  was  conscious  of  a 
certain  detachment  from  my  workmates,  to 
whom  Braid  would  relate  some  spicy  account 
of  what  his  "click"  "done"  last  night.  I 
would  sit  and  watch  their  faces,  note  their 
interrogations  and  the  eagerness  with  which 
they  would  introduce  a  similar  story  of  "  me 
and  my  boys,"  or  "me  an'  my  mate,"  and  I 
would  remain  silent,  so  that  I  got  the  reputation 
of  being  a  quiet  boy.  Nothing  very  particular 
happened  at  this  shop,  excepting  that  I  learned 
to  plane  up  wood  and  to  employ  trade  terms. 

I  was  working  in  the  men's  shop  over  which 
Veal  was  paramount.  Veal  was  the  most  per- 
fect mixture  of  so-called  "  gentleman "  and 


I  2 


116    ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

hooligan  that  I  have  ever  come  across.  He 
would  arrive  at  shop  at  9  a.m.  clothed  in 
immaculate  City  attire,  brightly-polished  "  top- 
hat,"  perfectly  clean  linen,  and  using  a  mincing, 
affected  carefulness  of  speech.  After  walking 
up  the  stairs  to  our  shop  at  the  top  of  the 
building,  he  would  sit  upon  a  box  in  his  bench- 
room  and  entirely  change  his  clothes,  even  to 
underclothing  and  socks,  and  with  them  pack 
away  carefully  every  vestige  of  respectability, 
including  his  manner  of  speech.  He  then 
folded  his  newspapers,  shut  the  lid  of  the  box 
wherein  his  garments  were  stowed  with  a  bang, 
and  gave  vent  to  a  string  of  most  horrible  oaths 
and  blasphemies  by  way  of  a  start  for  the  day. 
He  would  continue  all  day  in  this  vein,  until  at 
seven  o'clock  in  the  evening  he  resumed  his 
other  clothes  and  self,  and  returned  to  the 
suburb  from  whence  he  came,  where  no  doubt 
he  passed  as  a  respected  "something  in  the 
City." 

At  home  I  began  to  gain  some  small  amount 
of  consideration.  Of  the  six  shillings  a  week 
I  was  earning,  my  mother  had  five  and  six- 


I    AM   LAUNCHED  117 

pence.  The  five  and  sixpence  was  a  very 
welcome  addition  to  the  family  income,  seeing 
that  my  father  could  earn  very  little  and  was 
rapidly  lapsing  into  his  old  ways.  We  often 
found  ourselves  criticizing  each  other,  my 
father  and  I.  With  the  enthusiasm  of  youth  I 
tried  to  point  out  the  benefits  of  temperance, 
tried  to  trace  most  of  our  misfortunes  to  over- 
indulgence in  alcoholic  liquors.  By  way  of 
retort  he  would  denounce  me  as  a  stuck-up 
nincompoop,  who  was  trying  to  be  what  I  never 
could  reach  to,  one  who  was  not  content  with 
the  honest  "choker"  or  neckerchief  of  his 
father,  but  must  needs  go  in  for  a  sixpenny- 
halfpenny  shirt-front  and  collar  which  by  no 
means  matched  my  corduroy  trousers  or  place 
in  life.  Thus  we  would  argue  until  my  mother 
brought  it  to  a  close  by  agreeing  with  me  and 
—boxing  my  ears. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

SOME    EMPLOYERS 

I  HAD  been  at  Smith  &  Veal's  for  six 
months;  my  parents  and  I  had  often  compli- 
mented each  other  because  I  was  in  the  way 
of  learning  a  trade;  when  some  one,  vaguely 
called  a  "  City  Gent,"  came  one  dinner-time 
to  see  my  father  and  myself.  He  had  been  to 
my  late  school,  he  said,  and  had  inquired  about 
trustworthy  boys  leaving  school,  to  whom  he 
was  able  to  offer  most  attractive  and  lucrative 
positions. 

The  schoolmaster  had  given  him  several 
names  and  addresses,  laying  especial  emphasis 
on  mine,  owing  to  which  he  desired  to  offer  me 
the  post  of  cashier,  at  eight  shillings  per  week. 
He  whispered  confidentially  to  my  father : 
"  Matter  of  two  thousand  a  year  passing 
through  his  hands,  so,  owing  to  the  high  recom- 
mendations of  the  head  master,  I  can  offer  him 

118 


SOME   EMPLOYERS  119 

the  job."  Then  he  added,  as  an  after-thought, 
"Have  a  drink?"  When  I  knew  Mr.  Fordex 
more  I  grew  very  familiar  with  that  after- 
thought. 

My  father  declined  with  thanks.  I  was 
patted  about  (greatly  to  my  disgust),  the  wealth 
of  eight  shillings  a  week  was  flashed  before 
my  dazzled  eyes,  I  was  told  of  the  joys  of 
City  life,  and  the  feeling  of  being  among 
the  "  Heads,"  to  which  rank  I  might  with 
honesty,  industry  and  patience  eventually 
attain. 

It  was  the  word  Cashier  that  really  dazzled 
me. 

"  Blow  the  trade  !  "  said  my  father. 

"  Go  where  the  money  is,"  counselled  my 
mother. 

I  thought  it  very  fine,  this  first  great  open- 
ing in  life,  saw  myself  rising  in  imagination  to 
unexpected  heights. 

With  my  small  savings  augmented  from  the 
family  coffers  I  was  taken  by  my  mother  to 
buy  a  new  suit  of  clothes,  with  which  to  im- 
press my  prospective  employer.  Very  fine  suit, 


120    ONE   OF   THE  MULTITUDE 

I  thought,  until  a  month's  wear  revealed  its 
common  canvas  quality. 

I  rushed  home  from  Smith  &  Veal's  the 
next  Saturday,  changed  quickly  into  my  new 
clothes,  and  tightly  holding  a  letter  given  me 
by  Fordex,  walked  to  the  Royal  Exchange. 
There  was  a  little  shop  in  the  building  itself — 
a  small  dark  place,  with  a  large  bright  veneer 
of  periodical  literature  over  the  stall  board. 
Surmounting  the  whole  was  a  notice  declaring 
that  "  Faithfull's  posters  are  on  every  chimney- 
pot in  the  United  Kingdom,"  or  words  to  that 
effect. 

I  walked  across  the  square  and  delivered  my 
note  to  a  pallid-faced  youth,  who  was  sprawling 
over  the  papers  watching  a  red-coated  boot- 
black cuff  a  messenger  boy. 

The  pallid-faced  youth  read  the  letter  and 
gave  me  directions  as  to  getting  into  the  shop. 
I  went  through  a  low  narrow  passage-way  to 
the  second  door,  at  which  stood  my  future 
governor,  the  pallid-faced  youth  referred  to, 
Mr.  Limpet. 

"  So  you're  one  of  the  new  boys,"  he  said. 


SOME   EMPLOYERS  121 

brushing  invisible  specks  of  dust  from  his  coat 
as  he  spoke,  "one  of  the  boys  Fordex  went 
and  got  ? " 

I  said  I  hoped  I  should  give  satisfaction, 
and  inquired  about  the  nature  of  my  future 
occupation. 

"  Oh !  take  turns  with  me  to  sell  the  papers 
at  the  board;  much  better  job  than  the  other 
boys'll  have.  They'll  take  papers  round  club's 
and  that  sort  of  thing,  while  you'll  be  in  a 
position  of  trust." 

I  felt  somewhat  Hisillusioned  about  the 
"cashier"  part  of  the  job;  still,  I  returned 
home  with  optimistic  estimates  of  my  new 
position.  I  gave  a  week's  notice  to  Smith  & 
Veal,  with  the  information  that  I  was  leaving 
to  "  better  myself,"  which  gave  the  other  boys 
furiously  to  think  and,  perhaps,  to  envy. 

I  started  at  Faithfull's  on  the  Monday,  wear- 
ing my  new  suit;  but  on  Tuesday — in  my  old 
clothes,  for  on  Monday  evening  my  best  rai- 
ment was  pawned.  My  opinion  of  Faithfull's 
underwent  some  such  change;  I  started  hope- 
fully and  brightly,  but  soon  became  disap- 


122    ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

pointed  and  gloomy.  I  found  that  Fordex  was 
a  sort  of  clerk,  whose  chief  occupation  was  to 
obtain  a  sufficient  supply  of  boys  to  replace 
those  who  were  constantly  leaving. 

There  was  absolutely  no  prospect  of 
advancement  at  Faithfull's.  The  duties  were 
not  particularly  onerous ;  the  chief  requirement 
being  great  quickness  at  certain  times  of  the 
day.  I  had  to  fold  papers  from  about  7  a.m. 
to  about  8  a.m.  Then  after  breakfast  I  would 
take  a  large  number  of  Times  round  to  the 
Stock  Exchange,  and  papers  to  the  various 
clubs  and  telegraph  companies.  A  period 
of  "cashiering"  would  follow  till  dinner-time. 
Dinner-time  was  a  happy  respite,  without  much 
to  eat,  but  with  plenty  to  see — such  as  the 
frescoes  in  the  Exchange,  or  the  old  City 
churches. 

I  folded  my  papers  in  company  with  a  man 
named  Devine,  a  short,  sandy-coloured  man 
with  a  great  air  of  alertness  about  him.  He 
had,  he  assured  me,  the  paper  trade  at  his 
ringer  tips,  but  could  only  command  twenty-four 
shillings  a  week;  not  a  very  promising  outlook 


SOME   EMPLOYERS  123 

for  me,  I  thought,  especially  when  I  learned 
that  our  Fordex,  a  man  of  large  assumption, 
indeed  arrogance,  who  appeared  to  live  at  the 
rate  of  five  pounds  a  week,  was  in  receipt  of 
twenty-six  shillings. 

To  the  average  boy  of  thirteen  the  future  of 
his  life  is  more  a  matter  for  idle  speculation 
than  the  feeling  of  a  chain  development  from 
links  now  being  forged.  The  latter  idea 
obsessed  me.  I  was  always  thinking  of  my 
future,  and  soon  felt  anxious  about  not  being 
favourably  situated.  Faithfull's  job  was  a 
sham';  there  was  no  chance  of  a  rise  even.  So 
I  decided  to  leave,  and  to  get  back  to  the  wood- 
working trade  into  which  I  ha'd  already  been 
initiated.  Beside  the  need  of  leaving  for  the 
sake  of  my  future  a  very  present  evil  obtruded 
itself.  Our  part  of  the  building  was  totally 
devoid  of  the  requisite  sanitary  appointments. 
In  addition  to  this,  the  lack  of  proper  food  (I 
frequently  dined  on  a  halfpennyworth  of  ice- 
cream) had  its  physical  and  mental  effect.  I 
was  getting  very  thin,  began  to  feel  dull  during 
work-hours  and  "washed  out"  afterwards. 


124    ONE  OF  THE  MULTITUDE 

Most  of  the  other  boys  had  been  replaced 
during  my  stay  of  two  months;  I  felt  I  could 
not  endure  it  much  longer.  I  said  nothing  at 
home :  the  two-shilling  rise  over  Smith  & 
Veal's  wages  meant  so  much  to  them  that  I 
decided  to  get  another  job,  and  break  the  news 
gently  when  I  had  burned  my  boats. 

I  had  heard  that  a  Mr.  Batty,  a  frequent 
visitor  to  my  old  school,  was  in  need  of  a  shop 
boy  in  his  cabinet  factory.  He  had  made  the 
announcement  to  the  older  boys  whilst  gathered 
together  to  hear  his  celebrated  lecture,  "  The 
Defence  of  Rorke's  Drift." 

He  was  a  plutocratic  self-made  man,  who 
loved  to  pose  as  a  scholar.  He  would  place 
his  hand  upon  his  breast  and  commend  himself 
as  an  ideal  for  the  boys  to  copy. 

'The  boy  who  gets  this  'ere  job,"  he  said, 
"  will  have  an  excellent  opportunity  to  learn  the 
trade,  an  opportunity  such  as  few  boys  get 
now-a-days."  However,  no  boy  was  leaving 
the  school  just  then,  so  the  job  was  vacant.  I 
applied  for  it,  saw  Mr.  Batty  in  his  shop,  but 
was  told  to  apply  to  Batty  Junior,  whose  shop 


SOME   EMPLOYERS  125 

was  in  a  side  street.  There  was  nothing  very 
attractive  about  the  appearance  of  the  latter's 
shop.  It  was  at  the  top  of  a  high  building,  the 
ascent  of  the  stairs  being  accelerated  by  the 
ferocious  barking  of  an  unseen  dog.  The 
whole  place  was  in  semi-darkness,  including 
the  workshop  itself,  for  Batty  Junior  loved 
economy,  and  never  turned  on  the  gas  until 
it  was  quite  impossible  to  see  without  some 
illumination. 

I  told  him  of  my  past  experience  in  the  trade, 
by  virtue  of  which  he  offered  me  six  shillings 
and  sixpence  a  week.  I  accepted  it. 

Not  a  hint  was  given  to  Faithfull's  of  my 
approaching  departure.  Only  to  Ginger  Jones, 
another  paper  boy,  did  I  breathe  any  intima- 
tion. He  was  sorry  to  lose  a  chum — one  who 
had  shared  the  handles  of  an  ice-cream  cart 
during  many  a  dinner  hour — and  he  suggested 
a  visit  to  a  mysterious  coffee-house  he  knew, 
as  a  sort  of  Grand  Finale.  It  was  situated  in 
one  of  the  waterside  lanes  off  Eastcheap.  A 
more  desperate-looking  lot  of  ruffians,  tramps 
and  nondescripts  I  never  saw.  The  place  was 


really  a  lodging-house  of  the  lowest  type.  A 
few  forms  and  benches  were  scattered  about, 
upon  which  mugs  of  tea  often  alternated  with 
some  tattered  garment  undergoing  repairs.  At 
the  end  of  the  room  was  a  large  open  fire-place, 
where  the  water  was  boiled,  bread  toasted,  and 
tramps'  only  shirts  were  being  dried,  whilst 
their  owners  sat  holding  their  coats  about  them 
to  hide  their  nakedness. 

We  got  a  lot  of  tea  for  a  penny,  but  accus- 
tomed though  I  was  to  low  types  of  people,  I 
was  frightened  and  felt  glad  to  come  away. 

On  Saturday  evening  I  said  good-bye  to 
Ginger  Jones  and  to  visions  of  being  "  some- 
thing in  the  City,"  and  went  home  to  break  the 
news.  Fortunately  they  took  it  rather  well, 
my  thin,  emaciated  appearance  doubtless  prov- 
ing a  very  great  argument  for  the  change.  And 
so  I  retraced  my  steps,  for  the  sake  of  the 
present  and  the  future. 


CHAPTER     XVII 

A  VERY  ' DEAD  CERT ' 

BATTY  already  employed  an  old  school  chum 
of  mine,  so  I  did  not  feel  entirely  a  stranger, 
although  the  chum's  welcome  was  not  par- 
ticularly warm,  nor  his  opinion  of  Batty  very 
high.  Our  employer  was  a  man  of  splendid 
physique,  an  overbearing  yet  ingratiating 
person.  His  chief  virtue  was  courage,  his 
great  failing  meanness.  He  starved  himself — 
and  his  dog,  to  my  mind  the  worst  of  all 
possible  crimes.  A  penny  saveloy  with  a  lot 
of  mustard  and  a  halfpennyworth  of  bread  very 
often  constituted  his  dinner;  sometimes  the 
remains  of  a  halfpennyworth  of  tea  for  lunch 
would  be  hotted  again  for  dinner;  whilst  to 
the  dog  (a  large  hungry  mongrel)  was  doled  out 
two  small  puppy  biscuits  morning  and  evening. 
He  was,  I  believe,  emulating  the  man  who 
diminished  his  horse's  food  by  a  few  oats  a  day 

until  it  was  reduced  to  nothing,  for  when  we 

127 


128    ONE   OF  THE   MULTITUDE 

ran  out  of  puppy  biscuits,  he  would  reply  to 
my  reminder,  "  Oh,  a  little  fast  will  do  him 
good !  "  Whenever  I  saw  any  bones  in  the 
street  I  took  them  to  the  dog,  a  practice  my 
governor  encouraged,  because  he  could  then 
stop  the  biscuits  for  a  time. 

I  was  soon  "  licked  into  shape," — given 
boards  of  hard  walnut  to  cut  down  with  a  hand- 
saw, rough  boards  of  deal  to  jack-plane,  mould- 
ings to  sandpaper,  etc.  I  was  not  allowed  a 
minute's  rest,  but  kept  on  the  move  from  eight 
in  the  morning  to  whatever  time  I  could  get 
away  at  night.  There  was  no  clock  in  the  shop, 
so  at  first  I  stayed,  waiting  to  be  dismissed, 
until  ten  o'clock  at  night  ;  but  afterwards, 
when  I  knew  Batty  better,  I  left  as  soon  after 
8  p.m.  as  I  could. 

He  asked  me  one  night  how  I  knew  it  was 
eight  o'clock.  I  said,  "  By  careful  observa- 
tion," whereupon  he  found  that  the  dog's 
biscuits  needed  fetching,  or  a  Night  Star,  or  a 
pennyworth  of  "  Tottenham  Cake  "  for  his  own 
midnight  consumption.  He  bought  "  Totten- 
ham Cake  "  because  you  get  about  five  inches 


A   VERY   'DEAD   CERT'        129 

square  of  it,  an  inch  and  a  half  thick,  for  a 
penny.  Consequently  I  did  not  get  away  till 
about  nine  o'clock — a  long  day's  work;  but  as 
I  could  go  home  to  dinner  I  felt  no  particularly 
bad  effects.  Then  Batty  Junior  went  and  got 
married,  and  taking  home  firewood  to  his  house 
added  considerably  to  my  labours.  He  lived 
some  two  miles  away  from  the  shop  in  a 
northern  "  residential "  district,  a  quarter  of  an 
hour's  walk  from  the  main  road. 

At  a  quarter  to  eight  in  the  evening  he  would 
give  me  a  sack  of  wood  to  take  to  his  house. 
I  was  to  put  the  wood  with  the  tram-driver, 
get  up  on  top,  pay  the  penny  I  was  given,  and 
carry  my  burden,  when  the  tram  stopped  at  a 
certain  public-house,  through  half  a  mile  of 
streets  to  his  house. 

Of  course  the  tram-drivers  used  to  object, 
and  often  refused  the  carriage,  because  at  that 
time  of  the  evening  the  cars  were  packed  with 
people  and  the  horses  overworked.  So  I  just 
had  to  carry  a  sack  of  firewood  bigger  than 
myself  all  the  way,  not  getting  home  till  about 
half-past  nine. 


130    ONE  OF   THE  MULTITUDE 

My  employer  only  laughed  if  I  remonstrated, 
told  me  it  would  make  me  strong,  that  time  was 
of  no  value  to  me.  So  I  asked  him  for  a  "  rise," 
and  got  another  sixpence  a  week,  when  he  had 
finished  blustering  about  my  cheek. 

The  workmen  were  a  hard-working,  hard- 
drinking  lot,  with  Harry  Hews  as  nominal 
foreman.  With  Batty  working  at  the  bench  no 
other  authority  counted  for  much,  but  Hews 
was  given  the  courtesy  title,  because  he  drew 
the  highest  hour- work  wages  in  the  shop,  viz. 
sevenpence-halfpenny  an  hour.  The  method 
of  working  was  "  hand-in-hand  "  :  several  ward- 
robes being  undertaken  jointly  between  Batty, 
Hews,  Kates,  Berth,  and  Fells,  the  last-named 
being  my  old  schoolmate. 

Hews  was  a  humorous  individual,  whose 
nervous  manner  gave  point  to  his  atrocious 
puns.  Kates  was  a  swaggering  bouncer,  who 
at  the  age  of  twenty-three  had  a  wife  and  two 
children,  an  extensive  acquaintance  with  low 
women,  a  passion  for  betting,  and  fivepence 
per  hour. 

Derth  also  was  married,  lived  at   Enfield, 


A  VERY   'DEAD  CERT'        131 

took  home  a  week's  groceries  in  a  sack  on 
Saturdays,  and  often  tramped  to  work  and  back 
when  short  of  the  twopenny  railway  fare. 

I  was  rapidly  learning  to  do  a  few  things — 
could  use  a  saw  pretty  well,  could  plane  and 
paper  up,  and  soon  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
the  wardrobe  branch  of  cabinet-making  was 
unpromising,  to  say  the  least  of  it.  I  therefore 
decided  to  follow  the  advice  I  constantly 
received  from  Hews  and  others,  and  get  into 
the  general  trade,  and  let  events  assist  me. 

Tea-time  is  the  great  half-hour  of  the  work- 
day. All  the  men  sat  round  the  fire-place  and 
engaged  in  conversation,  Hews  mostly  telling 
of  his  son  in  Mandalay,  K&tes  of  his  base 
adventures,  or  of  how  his  "  fancy "  acquitted 
itself  in  such  and  such  a  race.  Sometimes  the 
conversation  turned  to  deeper  matters  :  religion 
or  politics,  subjects  I  used  to  consider  my  own, 
and  upon  which  I  used  to  dilate  accordingly. 

One  evening  we  were  discussing  the  reasons 
for  believing  in  a  God,  dwelling  for  a  time  on 
the  revelation  of  God  to  Man  as  recounted  in 
the  Bible.  "  See,"  I  said,  "  over  forty  different 


K  2 


writers  in  one  book,  thousands  of  years  between 
the  first  and  the  last.  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me 
all  of  them  were  mistaken?." 

"  Lot  of  rot,"  said  Kates.  "  Be  as  good  as 
you  can,  I  say,  and  if  you  can't  be  good — well, 
you're  living  naturally;  besides,  what's  it 
matter?" 

I  was  about  to  reply  hotly,  when  Hews  said, 
"  Now  you're  talking  about  the  Bible — well, 
I've  never  read  the  Bible  in  my  life." 

"  Never  !  "  I  ejaculated. 

"  No,  never,  although  I've  often  thought  I 
should  like  to  know  what  it's  about." 

Thereupon  I  offered  to  bring  a  Bible  to 
read  the  next  tea-time,  which  I  did,  starting 
with  the  Book  of  Esther,  because  I  had  told 
them  the  Bible  was  a  store-house  of  dramatic 
stories  amongst  other  things,  and  desired  to 
prove  it. 

Unfortunately  the  nights  were  drawing  in. 
At  this  particular  tea-time  the  shop  was  too 
dark  for  me  to  see  the  print  of  the  Bible^  so  I 
struck  a  match  and  lit  just  a  glimmer  of  gas- 
light, which  brought  Batty  from  his  "  office  "  (a 


A   VERY  'DEAD  CERT'        133 

box  three  feet  square)  demanding  in  a  tower- 
ing rage— 

"  Who  turned  the  bally  gas  on  ?  " 

I  confessed  myself  guilty,  and  told  him  I 
was  reading  the  Bible  to  the  men. 

"  What !  d'ye  expect  to  convert  'em  ? "  he 
inquired  sneeringly.  "Opening  a  loving  Bibje 
Class  in  my  shop  ? "  Then  he  changed  to 
his  habitual,  overbearing  manner,  "Out  with 
that  gas;  if  ever  I  find  you  lighting  it  again 
without  my  consent  I'll  stop  it  out  of  your 
wages." 

The  next  day  we  converse'd  about  Hews's  son 
in  Mandalay,  and  Kates's  opinion  of  Pretty 
Flossie's  chances  in  the  Helter  Skelter  Handi- 
cap— in  the  dark. 

When  work  was  over  for  the  day  I  invariably 
went  for  a  short  walk  alone;  my  long  work- 
hours  had  lost  me  my  few  acquaintances,  and 
it  was  my  humour. 

My  supper  allowance  of  a  halfpenny  was 
spent  during  the  walk,  if  not  in  food  for  the 
body,  then  for  the  mind,  for  I  directed  my  steps 
towards  a  row  of  second-hand  bookstalls,  over 


134    ONE  OF  THE   MULTITUDE 

which  I  lingered,  and  graduated  as  a  book 
lover. 

Among  my  mother's  ambitions  one  was  to 
have  a  family  Bible,  wherein  to  inscribe  the 
names  and  birthdays  of  the  whole  family.  I 
bought  a  large  musty  copy  of  the  Book  of 
Books  for  twopence,  and  duly  presented  it  to 
her. 

Thus  week-nights. 

Saturday  evening  was  devoted  to  the  play — 
lurid,  streaky  melodrama,  in  which  the  villain 
always  vowed  to  steep  his  hands  in  the  hero's 
gore.  "  Look  out !  "  an  overwrought  galleryite 
would  shout,  "  'e's  going  to  stab  yer  with  a 
knife."  Or  when  the  poisoned  cup  was  offered 
to  the  handsome  hero,  the  action  of  the  play 
would  be  delayed  by  voices  anxiously  bidding 
him  not  to  drink  it.  "  Shut  up,  Fathead  ! "  some 
grumpy  old  chap  would  say  to  the  nearest  pos- 
sessor of  one  of  these  voices;  "'ow  can  the 
play  go  on  if  he  don't  get  drugged?  Besides, 
the  'ero's  bahnd  to  win  in  the  end,  ain't  'e  ?  " 

A  rapt  silence  would  ensue  until  the  comics 
came  on  to  dispel  some  of  the  tragic  gloom. 


A  VERY   'DEAD   CERT'        135 

I  must  confess  I  often  found  the  comic  part 
gloomy  and  the  tragic  part  a  mine  of  humour. 
I  know  now  that  it  really  was  as  I  understood 
it,  although  then  I  rather  feared  something  was 
lacking  in  my  composition ;  I  felt  myself  to  be 
a  funny  sort  of  chap — fancy  laughing  at  what 
others  took  so  seriously !  Yet  how  absurd  it 
all  was,  after  all ! 

I  severed  my  connection  with  these  Saturday 
night  orgies,  because,  when  I  had  scarcely  a  rag 
to  my  back  as  the  result  of  firewood  carrying, 
and  the  effect  of  Anno  Domini  sartorially,  I 
was  told  to  buy  all  my  own  clothes  for  the 
future,  and  was  allowed  threepence  a  week 
extra  out  of  my  earnings  for  that  purpose. 
This  meant,  of  course,  that  practically  all  my 
pocket  money  would  have  to  go  towards  cloth- 
ing myself.  Consequently  the  'drama  was  an 
unattainable  luxury  for  me.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  I  never  went  again  to  such  plays,  for 
when  I  could  afford  it  I  had  lost  the  desire. 
My  ruling  passion  now  was  to  get  a  new  suit 
for  Sunday  wear,  and  to  be  "  tidy  "  during  the 
week.  But  what  a  problem  it  was  on  nine- 


136    ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

pence  a  week,  out  of  which  I  paid  three-half- 
pence to  have  my  collar  and  front  done  up 
at  a  launHry ! 

I  saved  nearly  the  whole  of  my  pocket  money 
for  months,  giving  the  weekly  instalments  to 
my  mother  to  mind.  When  I  had  saved  fifteen 
shillings  I  asked  for  it  back,  feelingly  highly 
elated  because  at  last  I  was  near  my  goal. 

"  You've  given  me  no  fifteen  shillings," 
replied  my  mother. 

"  Yes,  I  have,"  I  protested,  and  showed  a 
slip  of  paper  on  which  I  had  kept  account  of 
my  contributions. 

"  No  fear ;  it's  about  ten  shillings,"  she 
replied.  Apparently  she  had  spent  the  money 
as  she  received  it,  to  meet  the  pressing  de- 
mands on  her  purse,  and  had  not  noticed  the 
comparatively  heavy  accumulation. 

"All  right,"  I  said  at  last  in  despair;  "give 
me  the  ten  shillings." 

"  I  can't  give  you  ten  shillings  at  a  moment's 
notice,"  she  said.  "  How  do  you  think  we  can 
live?" 

I  believe  I  never  felt  more  grieved  in  my 


A   VERY   'DEAD   CERT'        137 

life  than  I  did  then.  My  hopes  had  all  been 
centred  upon  this  day;  amusements  had  been 
cheerfully  given  up — and  now 

"  I'll  give  you  back  a  shilling  a  week,"  my 
mother  said,  "  until  it's  all  paid  back,  and  then 
you'd  better  mind  your  own." 

I  could  not  trust  myself  to  speak,  my  arms 
dangled  loosely  from  my  body;  I  went  for  a 
long  walk. 

I  had  to  start  saving  all  over  again  to  get 
that  suit,  for  my  mother  was  unable  to  keep  up 
the  shilling  repayments  after  the  first  two  or 
three,  whereupon  I  forgave  it  as  a  bad  debt. 

Kates  was  brimming  over  just  then  with 
details  of  Pretty  Flossie's  chances  in  the  big 
race. 

"Absolute  cert,"  he  said,  "the  Green  Card 
gives  it  too.  And  fancy  the  price,  twelve  to 
one  against !  George,  my  boy,  if  anybody  asks 
you  what  you  know,  say  Pretty  Flossie  for  the 
'  Big  'Un.'  Me  and  my  missus  are  going  to  put 
Sunday's  dinner  and  the  rent  on  it — so  you 
can  bet  it's  a  bit  of  all  right." 

His  enthusiasm  was  infectious.    For  the  rest 


138    ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

of  the  week  nothing  could  be  heard  but  "  Pretty 
Flossie";  the  other  men  vying  with  Kates  in 
describing  the  mare's  coming  victory. 

I  became  fired  by  the  example  of  the  others. 
I  could  do  with  some  money,  I  reasoned,  and 
if,  by  putting  a  shiHing  on  an  "  absolute  cert," 
I  could  win  back  twelve  a  couple  of  hours  later, 
why  not?  I  asked  myself  why  shouldn't  I 
take  advantage  of  this  exclusive  tip,  and 
get  my  new  suit  without  any  more  tedious 
saving  ? 

The  race  was  run  on  a  Saturday.  In  the 
ordinary  course  of  events  we  should  have  been 
paid  our  wages  at  one  o'clock,  thus  leaving 
ample  time  for  a  deal  with  the  bookmaker. 
But  upon  this  Saturday  Batty  wanted  a  sack 
of  wood  taken  home  to  his  house,  and  beyond 
giving  me  the  usual  penny  for  my  tram  fare, 
sent  me  off  penniless,  saying  that  I  could  have 
tea  at  his  house,  after  which  he  would  pay  me 
my  wages. 

When  I  left  his  house  it  was  five  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon,  the  whole  of  my  wages  were  in 
my  pocket,  but  I  felt  chagrined  to  think  of  that 


A   VERY   'DEAD   CERT'         139 

other  twelve  shillings  I  should  have  had  by 
backing  the  "  dead  cert." 

Out  of  curiosity  to  know  the  result  I  bought 
a  halfpenny  paper  and  eagerly  scanned  the 
Stop  Press  Column  on  the  inside  page. 

"3.30."  Ah!  there  it  was.  "Surprise  i. 
Beatall  2.  The  Unknown  3.  Also  ran  :  Pretty 
Flossie,"  etc.,  etc. 

Is  it  surprising  that  I  thought  I  had  been 
specially  watched  over  by  Providence,  and  that 
I  determined  never  to  bet  upon  the  "  deadest  of 
certs,"  however  hard  up  I  should  happen  to  be 
in  the  future? 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

BORLAND  STREET  CHAPEL 

AT  last,  by  dint  of  careful  saving,  I  got  to- 
gether sufficient  money  to  buy  myself  a  neat 
second-hand  suit  of  clothes,  nothing  very  great 
or  grand,  but  it  made  me  feel  more  content  with 
my  outer  person. 

I  began  to  desire  a  change  in  my  habits,  and 
one  evening  presented  myself  at  the  Webbe 
Institute,  which  is  in  connection  with  Oxford 
House,  and  applied  for  admission  both  to  the 
club  and  the  cadet  corps  attached  to  it.  It  was 
necessary  to  belong  to  the  club  in  order  to 
join  the  cadet  corps.  I  was  duly  proposed, 
seconded,  and  elected  a  member. 

In  various  ways  and  at  different  times  I  had 
been  in  touch  with  elementary  military  associa- 
tions, such  as  the  Boys'  Brigade  and  the  Church 
Lads'  Brigade,  although  I  have  not  deemed 
such  attachments  to  merit  attention  in  previous 

chapters. 

140 


BORLAND   STREET   CHAPEL     141 

Military  service  fascinated  me.  Deep  down 
within  me  was  the  conviction  that  when  I 
reached  eighteen  years  of  age  I  should  join 
the  army. 

For  that  reason  I  eagerly  listened  to  all  that 
Hews  had  to  say  of  his  son  in  Burma,  and 
treasured  up  accounts  of  how  his  son  got  him- 
self transferred  from  one  battalion  to  another 
in  order  to  change  his  station,  in  case  I  should 
ever  want  to  do  the  same. 

The  reader  may  perhaps  inquire  why  I  'did 
not  take  the  obvious  step  and  join  at  once. 
For  that  my  parents'  consent  was  necessary, 
and  my  father  and  mother  had  a  positive  hatred 
of  "  good-for-nothing  "  soldiers,  as  they  dubbed 
them.  They  considered  that  joining  the  army 
was  as  bad,  and  brought  as  much  disgrace  upon 
a  family,  as  becoming  a  burglar. 

I  must  admit  that  the  recruits  supplied  by 
our  street  and  Turkey  Lane  were  the  most 
ruffianly  and  desperate  characters  of  which 
even  that  region  could  boast.  Braid,  for  in- 
stance, had  before  this  joined  a  Scotch  regi- 
ment; had  deserted,  sold  his  kit,  and  rejoined 


142    ONE  OF  THE   MULTITUDE 

in  the  Hussars  by  the  time  my  predilections  led 
me  to  join  the  Cadet  Corps  of  the  Queen's 
Royal  West  Surrey  Regiment  and  the  Webbe 
Institute.  I  quickly  became  "  efficient "  in  my 
drills,  etc.,  and  was  allowed  to  take  my  carbine 
and  bayonet  home. 

Until  then  I  had  not  breathed  a  word  to  my 
parents,  but  a  carbine  and  bayonet  are  rather 
awkward  things  to  hide,  living  in  only  one 
room";  so  I  was  not  surprised  one  dinner-time 
to  be  confronted  by  an  irate  mother  who  had  a 
"  bone  to  pick  "  with  me. 

What  were  my  intentions?  she  questioned. 
Did  I  want  the  whole  family  to  be  accidentally 
shot  dead?  Was  I  anxious  that  my  younger 
brothers  should  grow  up  minus  arms  or  legs? 

I  suggested  that  the  carbine  would  probably 
explode  if  I  tried  to  shoot  with  it,  and,  to  use 
a  favourite  figure  of  speech,  the  bayonet 
"  wouldn't  cut  butter  when  it's  hot." 

My  mother  then  dwelt  at  some  length  upon 
the  social  degradation  that  must  inevitably 
ensue  even  through  playing  at  "  Saturday 
Night  Soldiers."  I  retorted  that  the  idea  of 


BORLAND   STREET   CHAPEL     143 

social  degradation  was  rather  ridiculous  when 
one  is  perilously  near  the  bottom  already; 
which,  of  course,  precipitated  a  violent  storm, 
from  which  I  was  glad  to  escape  back  to  work. 

On  arriving  home  that  evening  I  was  sur- 
prised to  see  bales  of  bedding  in  the  corners  of 
the  room,  the  walls  bare  of  their  wonted  orna- 
ments and  pictures,  everything  indicating  a 
moving  job. 

"  Hullo !  "  I  said  to  my  brother,  who  was 
carefully  rolling  up  our  only  piece  of  linoleum 
(about  three  feet  by  two) ;  "  hullo  !  what's  up  ?  " 

"  Moving  away,"  he  said,  as  if  it  were  the 
most  everyday  thing  in  the  world  to  do.  Yet 
he  and  I  had  been  born  in  that  room,  had  lived 
all  our  lives  between  those  familiar  walls. 

"  We're  going  to  be  high  up  in  the  world," 
he  ventured  to  observe.  "  Got  two  rooms  up 
by  Turkey  Lane,  top  floor." 

"  Well,  fancy  never  telling  me !  "  I  com- 
plained; then  attempted  great  feats  in  the  way 
of  carrying  goods. 

The  time  it  takes  to  move  one  roomful  of 
goods  into  two  a  little  higher  up  the  street, 


144    ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

when  the  vehicle  is  a  little  hand-barrow  and  the 
labourers  are  small  boys,  is  simply  astounding. 
By  about  eleven  o'clock  we  were  in  our  new 
apartments — that  is  to  say,  we  then  sat  upon 
chairs  and  confessed  ignorance  as  to  where 
anything  was.  Finally,  by  about  half-past 
twelve,  the  beds  were  made  up  upon  the  floor 
and  we  sank  to  rest,  thankful  that  moving-day 
was  over. 

Under  the  influences  of  regular  drills  and 
home  food  I  rapidly  gained  in  physique  and 
health.  As  soon  as  I  left  work  I  rushed  off 
to  the  "  Institute,"  or,  as  we  termed  it,  the 
"  Webbe,"  for  the  rest  of  the  evening.  I  had 
no  desire  for  company  at  this  age — my  life  was 
very  largely  individual.  I  could  amuse  myself 
very  well,  go  for  long  rambles  alone,  and 
enjoy  them.  My  love  for  the  country  asserted 
itself.  Upon  many  a  Sunday  I  walked  from 
the  East  End  to  Barnet  and  back,  or  else  to 
Chingford  and  High  Beech — those  forest 
glades  so  near  and  dear  to  the  heart  of  the 
East  Ender. 


BORLAND   STREET   CHAPEL      145 

On  these  walks  I  often  speculated  as  to  what 
the  future  had  in  store  for  me.  Should  I  be- 
come a  great  man?  Perhaps  I  should  just 
manage  to  be  a  respectable  artisan  in  a  good- 
class  workshop.  Or  was  it  possible  I  should 
find  myself  a  typical  "Moor"  in  spite  of  my 
struggles,  in  accordance  with  my  parents' 
cynical  prophecies?  When  I  thought  of  that 
my  stride  would  lengthen,  my  arms  would 
work  like  piston-rods  pumping  into  my  mind 
the  one  word — Never. 

Then  I  would  think  of  becoming  a  soldier, 
of  enjoying  the  open  air,  of  the  delight  of 
travelling.  But  generally  I  would  begin  to 
doubt  whether  I  should  like  to  be  ordered 
about  very  much.  My  thoughts  would  then 
take  a  huge  jump  to  farming  in  Canada.  The 
open  air,  the  delights  of  pioneer  work,  the  pos- 
sibilities (as  detailed  in  various  laudatory 
pamphlets),  of  becoming  wealthy,  causing  me 
to  overlook  the  arduous  toil,  hardships,  lack  of 
experience,  and  difficulties  insuperable  from 
want  of  capital.  In  a  minor  degree  I  had  the 
idea  of  joining  the  Navy  as  a  carpenter  when 


146    ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

I  should  become  old  enough;  and  so,  during 
my  days  and  nights  these  designs  for  my 
future  life  would  permeate  my  thoughts.  One 
day  I  would  feel  martial,  would  march  erect 
thinking  of  army  life ;  on  the  next  I  thought  of 
nothing  but  farming  and  Canada.  All  the 
pamphlets  I  could  carry  were  then  stuffed  into 
my  pockets  to  be  perused  at  frequent  intervals, 
and  exhibited  whenever  the  audience  happened 
to  be  sympathetic. 

One  day,  when  my  head  was  particularly  full 
of  farming  and  Canada,  my  pockets  alarmingly 
stretched  by  pamphlets,  and  my  arms  over- 
loaded with  beer-cans,  I  met  a  boy  also  out  for 
workmen's  lunches,  who  had  been  in  Mr.  God- 
frey Warden's  class  at  the  Ragged  School. 

"  What  cher,  Simpson !  "  I  shouted  to  him 
across  the  road ;  "  working  round  here  ? " 
We  met  in  the  bar  of  the  "  Farmers'  Arms," 
and  talked  of  old  times  and  present  occupa- 
tions, both  social  and  industrial.  With  a 
medley  of  provisions  in  our  gathered  aprons, 
through  which  mustard  pickles  were  becoming 
more  and  more  visible,  and  with  half-a-dozen 


BORLAND   STREET   CHAPEL     i47 

cans  on  each  arm,  we  stayed  at  the  corner  and 
talked. 

"  Must  be  fine  out  there,"  I  continued,  with 
an  expressive  jerk  of  the  head. 

'  Yes,  it's  a  grand  place ;  the  fellows  are  so 
sociable,  you  know,"  he  replied. 

"  It'll  take  me  a  long  time  to  save  up  six 
pounds  out  of  ninepence  a  week,  buying  my 
own  clothes,"  I  said  thoughtfully;  to  which  he 
answered — 

'  'Ow  I  came  to  go  there  was  like  this 

'  You  never  went  to  Canada  !  "  I  interrupted. 

"Who  said  I  did?" 

"  You  did." 

"No,  I  didn't!  I  was  talking  about  Dor- 
land  Street  Chapel  and  the  way  I  came  to  go 
there ;  was " 

Our  conversation  was  interrupted  at  this 
juncture  by  my  ear  being  gently  pulled  by 
somebody  behind  me.  I  turned  round  sharply 
and  found  myself  face  to  face  with  my  em- 
ployer, Mr.  Batty,  who  still  retained  hold  of 
my  ear,  and  was  inquiring  anxiously  if  my 
joints  wanted  oiling. 


L  2 


148    ONE  OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

I  replied,  "  Not  this  morning,  thank  you." 

"  You  cheeky  brat !  "  he  said.  "  Get  a  move 
on  you,  or  I'll  knock  your  head  off."  So 
Simpson  and  I  parted  until  eight  o'clock  in 
the  evening,  when  we  again  met  and  walked 
home  together,  talking. 

"  Belong  to  the  Webbe  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  For  a  year  or  more,"  I  replied. 

"  Rough  sort  of  show,  ain't  it  ?  " 

"Well,  some  people  say  it  is,"  I  answered, 
"and  none  of  them  know  what  they're  talking 
about." 

:<  Well,  it's  got  a  bad  name,"  he  continued. 

"  So  had  the  dog,"  I  said  bitterly. 

"What  dog?" 

"Why,  you  know,  give  a  dog  a  bad  name  and 
hang  him — that  dog,  I  mean;  but  still,  what 
about  this  chapel  you  were  telling  me  of  ?  " 

"Oh,  love  us !  "  he  said;  "it  ain't  'alf  a  fine 
place.  I  go  to  a  C.E. — that  stands  for  '  Chris- 
tian Endeavour,'  you  know — every  Thursday 
night;  sit  among  all  the  girls! — they  do  sing 
nicely,  and  they're  so  nice,  treat  you  like  one 
of  theirselves,  you  know;  nothing  stuck-up 


BORLAND   STREET   CHAPEL     149 

about  'em;  ain't  missed  one  attendance  yet 
since  I  joined." 

I  believe  he  only  paused  for  breath,  but  I 
took  the  opportunity  to  supply  my  fair  share  of 
the  conversation  by  remarking,  "  The  gym- 
nastics they  teach  you  at  the  Webbe  are  good 
for  you.'* 

"Yes;  but  why  don't  you  come  and  join 
Borland  Street?  They  don't  preach  at  you 
much,  no  shouting  about  Jesus,  or  telling  you 
what  a  wicked  sinner  you  are.  I  believe  they 
live  good  first,  and  influence  you  like  by  that. 
Come  up  next  Thursday  night,"  and  then  as 
an  additional  inducement  he  said,  "  Everybody 
shakes  hands  with  you." 

"  Girls  and  all  ? "  I  inquired  sceptically,  for 
the  other  sex  was  then  a  novelty  and  a  mystery 
to  me. 

"  That's  the  best  part  about  it !  "  He  slyly 
nudged  me.  "  Introduce  you  to  'em  all ; "  then 
whispering  confidentially,  "  One  of  'em's  fair 
gone  on  me — wants  to  go  out  with  me." 

"  Why,  you've  had  five  already !  "  I  replied. 
"  How  many  more  ? " 


150    ONE   OF  THE   MULTITUDE 

At  this  point  I  may  set  down  the  solemn  fact 
that  Simpson  "went  out"  with  fifteen  addi- 
tional girls  before  he  married — an  enormous 
crime  where  two  "walkings  out"  is  considered 
the  limit.  There  was  nothing  very  striking 
about  his  appearance  or  his  capabilities.  He 
appeared  to  take  a  life-and-death  interest  in 
everybody,  had  a  large  amount  of  vitality  and 
energy,  shared  the  family  business  talent  which 
had  made  his  parents  the  most  wealthy  persons 
in  a  poor  locality,  talked  much  of  love  and 
affection,  although  I  doubt  if,  in  the  highest 
sense,  he  was  capable  of  it.  He  was  only  fond 
of  himself — and  me.  It  does  not  take  much 
to  know  if  a  person  is  fond  of  one  or  not, 
especially  if  one  happens  to  be  an  extremely 
sensitive  boy,  whose  whole  existence  has  been 
loveless  and  unaccompanied  by  affection — yet, 
on  account  of  its  former  absence,  heedless  if  it 
were  now  given.  Such  a  boy  was  I,  and  Simp- 
son was  fond  of  me.  We  often  met  whilst  run- 
ning errands,  after  work-hours,  at  odd  moments 
on  Saturday  afternoons  and  Sundays,  Fate  or 
Providence  seemed  to  be  throwing  us  together 


BORLAND   STREET   CHAPEL     151 

continually,  and  Dorland  Street  Chapel  was  the 
uppermost  subject  of  conversation.  He  always 
said,  "Why  Hon't  you  come?"  after  speaking 
of  the  chapel,  and  I  always  declined.  But 
Providence  was  stronger  than  I,  for  one  Sunday 
night  I  went  alone  to  Dorland  Street  Chapel, 
not  intending  to  join,  or  regularly  attend,  but 
solely  with  the  object  of  returning  a  little  con- 
juring book  I  had  borrowed  from  Simpson. 

That  was  probably  the  most  important  step 
I  ever  took  in  my  life. 


CHAPTER   XIX 

THE  'INNER  SOCIAL  CIRCLE' 

BORLAND  STREET  CHAPEL  presented  a  some- 
what forbidding  appearance  to  the  stranger, 
for  it  was  enclosed  by  iron  railings  the  spikes 
of  which  stood  up  like  the  bayonets  of  a  square 
of  soldiers.  It  was  not  very  far  from  Morocco 
Street,  although  not  in  the  immediate  neigh- 
bourhood, so  that  I  was  an  entire  stranger  to  all 
the  attenHers,  except  Simpson.  Under  his  aegis 
I  was  introduced  to  several  members,  and  up  to 
a  certain  point  became  fairly  familiar  with  the 
place  and  people.  I  soon  felt,  however,  that 
there  was  a  barrier  of  some  sort  to  prevent  our 
getting  more  intimate  socially  with  most  of  the 
other  frequenters  of  the  place. 

The  chapel  was  of  the  mission-hall  variety — 
informal  in  its  services,  yet  rigid  in  its  laws  of 

conduct. 

152 


THE   'INNER   SOCIAL   CIRCLE'    158 

The  ideas  and  'dogmas  of  Baptism,  of  cere- 
monial Holy  Communion,  were  regarded  with 
a  superior  smile  as  one  might  regard  fantastic 
heathen  rites. 

The  great  dogma  held  by  the  Dorlanders 
was  that  the  Bible  was  inspired  from  cover  to 
cover,  was  literally  true,  and  inviolable.  If 
one  saw  passages  commending  Baptism,  etc., 
other  mystic  passages  would  be  shown  invali- 
dating them,  or  else  the  original  statement 
would  be  distorted  so  as  to  mean  anything. 
The  attenHer's  chief  business  was  to  get  him- 
self "  converted,"  to  attain  which  en'd  somewhat 
hysterical  mission  services  were  held  for  a  fort- 
night in  each  year.  Until  one  became  "  saved," 
admission  to  the  inner  social  circle  appeared  to 
be  denied. 

Simpson  and  I  found  this  out  at  about  the 
same  time,  and  secretly  won'dered  (at  least  I 
did)  why  we  were  so  wicked  as  to  pass  un- 
scathed through  the  most  hysterical  services, 
almost  unmoved  by  the  appeals  to  cast  all  our 
sins  from  us. 

I  was  not  aware  of  any  vicious  habits  or 


154    ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

conscious  sin,  but  the  preacher  had  said  we  were 
all  masses  of  corruption  until  we  were  "  saved," 
and  we  believed  him.  Some  of  our  young 
fellow-attenders  announced  their  "  conversion," 
without  apparently  altering  their  manners  or 
their  ways,  except  that  they  were  taken  up  by 
our  "  Society."  Others  left,  after  being  unsuc- 
cessfully preached  at  for  a  year  or  two. 

With  such  a  sharp  annual  division  between 
the  sheep  and  the  goats,  it  is  not  to  be  won- 
clered  at  that  most  of  the  younger  converts 
were  just  a  little  hypocritical,  and  felt  them- 
selves to  be  (so,  although  they  held  it  was 
necessary  if  you  didn't  feel  very  "religious," 
to  pretend  you  were,  for  it  helped  you  to 
become  better,  or  at  least  prevented  a  return 
to  less  desirable  social  connections. 

I  often  thought  of  the  remarkable  social 
gradations  in  a  small  place  like  the  chapel,  as 
I  sat  in  the  library  of  the  Webbe  Institute.  I 
had  resigned  from  the  cadet  corps,  and  only 
remained  attached  to  the  club ;  in  the  library  of 
which  I  spent  much  of  my  spare  time. 

I   made  a  determined  onslaught  upon  the 


THE   'INNER   SOCIAL   CIRCLE'     155 

library,  an'd  read,  I  believe,  every  interesting 
book  it  contained,  from  the  'Boys1  Own  Paper 
to  Thackeray,  and  the  Waverley  'Novels  to 
George  Eliot.  Most  of  the  longer  books  I  took 
home  to  read,  storing  them  in  strange  places, 
out  of  the  destructive  children's  way. 

I  often  sat  far  into  the  night  perche'd  upon 
a  disguise'd  orange-box,  reading  the  wonderful 
novels  of  Dickens  or  George  Eliot  by  the  eye- 
straining  light  of  a  wretched  evil-smelling  tin 
oil-lamp.  Far  below  me,  in  the  yar'ds  beneath, 
a  costermonger's  donkey  would  bray  now  anH 
again,  oaths  and  drunken  quarrels  fill  the  morn- 
ing air  with  verbal  pollution.  My  mother's 
voice  would  ask  me  through  the  thin  wooden 
partition  which  divided  the  rooms  "if  I  was 
going  to  stop  up  all  night?"  Whereupon  I 
would  close  my  book,  turn  my  sleeping  brothers 
about  until  a  space  was  made  for  myself  in 
the  overcrowded  bed,  and  at  last  fall  asleep, 
dreaming  of  those  brighter  days  I  hoped  to 
see. 

Then  in  the  morning  I  went  off  to  Batty's  to 
run  errands  and  shape  wood,  and  so  life 


156    ONE   OF  THE   MULTITUDE 

went  on,  between  his  shop,  the  club,  and  the 
chapel. 

Batty  had  gradually  imposed  work  upon  me 
that  a  grown  man  would  consider  laborious. 
But  he  over-reached  himself  one  Saturday 
morning  by  piling  up  seven  sacks  of  firewood 
upon  a  hand-barrow,  and  tying  a  pail  of  liquid 
manure  for  his  garden  upon  the  rails  at  the 
back. 

"  I  can't  manage  all  that,"  I  remonstrated. 

"  Gorn !  gorn !  I  don't  want  any  of  your 
'  lip,'  "  he  retorted.  "  Get  a  move  on  you." 

"  Look  here,  guv'nor,"  I  shouted  to  his  re- 
treating form,  "  I  'don't  mind  doing  a  boy's 
work,  but  I  can't  do  a  man's;  I'll  be  blowed  if 
I  take  this  lot  home." 

He  went  up  the  stairs  without  a  word,  and 
returnee!  with  an  extra  half  sack  of  wood,  which 
he  placed  near  the  front  of  the  barrow  and  told 
me  it  would  make  the  load  easier  as  it  would 
balance  the  manure  better. 

When  he  went  up-stairs  again  I  untied  the 
manure,  also  took  off  two  sacks  of  firewood, 
and  left  them  in  the  passage;  then,  with  the 


THE   'INNER  SOCIAL   CIRCLE'     157 

remaining  five  and  a  half  sacks,  I  quickly 
pushed  the  barrow  out  of  the  street  and  to  his 
home.  I  got  a  week's  notice  to  leave,  with  my 
wages,  later  in  the  day. 

I  had  worked  at  that  shop  for  nearly  three 
years,  and  felt  somewhat  disgraced  at  "  getting 
the  sack,"  although  I  was  able  to  get  a  job 
during  my  last  week,  to  start  the  following 
Monday  morning,  at  Ashley  Brothers',  special- 
ists in  oak  furniture. 

My  new  employers  were  sharp  young  men 
with  plenty  of  "  side "  and  a  good  deal  of 
ability,  though  not  much  capital.  I  should 
think  twenty  pounds  would  have  bought  them 
out. 

They  were  brisk  in  their  business  methods, 
talked  a  good  deal  about  "  efficiency "  and 
"  system,"  and  got  every  ounce  of  work  out  of 
one  that  was  legitimately  possible.  Their  hours 
were  from  eight  in  the  morning  until  eight  at 
night,  hard  slogging  work  all  the  time. 

I  was  now  an  "  improver,"  and  ran  no 
errands.  I  got  fifteen  shillings  a  week,  out  of 
which  I  gave  my  mother  ten  shillings,  so  I 


could  now  buy  my  clothes  and  save  a  little 
without  much  sacrifice. 

I  soon  found  that  Simpson  had  not  pene- 
trated the  "  Inner  Circle "  at  the  chapel,  in 
spite  of  his  sympathies  and  insinuating  ways. 
He  was  only  on  familiar  terms  with  other  "  out- 
siders," and  sighed  as  deeply  as  any  one  for 
the  recognition  of  the  Elect. 

One  Sunday  night  he  told  me  in  a  most 
matter-of-fact  tone  that  he  was  about  to  be 
converted.  I  was  greatly  surprised.  In  my 
innocence  I  imagined  one  only  became  con- 
verted after  much  wrestling  with  strange  pas- 
sions and  sins,  finally  giving  up  the  care  of 
one's  soul  to  its  sublime  Creator.  A  convert,  I 
thought,  should  bear  the  marks  of  his  great 
struggle.  Yet  here  was  Simpson  talking  as 
if  being  converted  was  like  going  for  a 
walk !  It  gave  me  rather  a  shock,  and  opened 
my  eyes  to  the  hypocrisy  of  much  of  this 
"  conversion." 

About  half-an-hour  later  I  went  back  to  see 
how  he  was  getting  along. 

I  searched  about  but  could  not  see  him,  so  I 


THE   'INNER  SOCIAL   CIRCLE'     159 

asked  the  caretaker  of  his  whereabouts.  Now 
the  caretaker  was  most  zealous  in  his  attempts 
to  win  converts,  so  in  helping  me  to  find  Simp- 
son he  thought  he  would  also  help  me  to  find 
Heaven,  as  he  afterwards  told  me. 

I  was  taken  to  a  room,  the  door  of  which  was 
slightly  ajar. 

"E's  in  there,"  the  caretaker  whispered. 

I  listened  for  a  moment  or  two,  but  could 
hear  no  sound  of  voices.  "  I  don't  hear 
anything,"  I  said.  "Are  you  sure  he's  in 
there?" 

"  Course  'e's  in  there,"  he  replied.  "  Have 
a  look  yourself." 

I  again  listened,  but  could  hear  no  sound.  I 
laid  my  hand  on  the  door,  intending  to  peep 
inside,  but  at  this  instant  received  a  push  which 
sent  me  right  into  the  room;  the  door  was  closed 
behind  me,  and  I  found  myself  with  Simpson 
and  the  missioner,  both  kneeling  in  silent 
prayer. 

I  hardly  liked  to  disturb  their  meditations 
again  by  rushing  out  of  the  room,  although  my 
impulse  was  to  do  so. 

\ 


The  missioner  beckoned  me  to  kneel  by  the 
side  of  Simpson. 

_For  a  moment  I  struggled  with  the  thought 
that  I  was  in  a  false  position  through  the  care- 
taker's agency;  I  felt  angry,  too,  that  people 
should  trick  me  into  being  "  saved." 

Then  I  foresaw,  and  feared,  the  awkward 
situation  that  would  be  created  if  I  should 
stalk  from  the  room.  Borland  opinion  would  be 
so  strong  that  connections  which  were  fast  be- 
coming permanent,  and  social  influences  which 
were  becoming  necessary  to  my  development, 
would  be  strained  and  eventually  severed. 

I  knelt  as  I  was  bidden,  and  in  the  silent 
prayer  that  again  ensued  I  asked  God  to  for- 
give me  if  I  was  hypocritical  in  not  feeling  any 
elation  of  soul,  nor  any  profound  conviction 
that  I  was  a  miserable  sinner. 

A  few  minutes  later  I  was  assured  with 
Simpson  that  I  was  "saved,"  our  names  and 
addresses  were  written  down  in  a  small  pocket- 
book. 

We  left  the  room. 

Simpson    explained    volubly    that    he    had 


THE   'INNER  SOCIAL   CIRCLE'    161 

wanted  to  be  converted  for  quite  a  long  time 
back. 

I  was  silent  for  the  rest  of  the  evening, 
ashamed. 

Henceforth  we  were  fit  to  mingle  with  the 
Elect. 


M 


CHAPTER   XX 

A  YOUNG   LADY 

MY  new  employers  rapidly  gained  my 
admiration.  They  were  so  smart,  so  confident ; 
even  their  stock  remark,  "  .We're  not  running  a 
charitable  institution,"  seemed  rather  admirable 
— it  was  war,  and  war  was  business. 

During  work-hours  they  sang  those  songs 
that  make  one  work  harder,  they  purposely 
avoided  any  others.  Or,  after  reading  the 
Daily  Mail  (a  halfpenny  morning  paper  was 
then  still  a  novelty)  they  would  pass  naturally 
enough  from  praise  of  Harmsworths'  enterprise, 
to  praise  of  themselves. 

"  Harmsworths  and  us,  we're  the  people  to 
make  the  world  go  round,"  they  would  tell  each 
other.  "  No  flies  on  us." 

In  spite  of  their  pushfulness,  however,  the 
world  didn't  always  go  roun'd  their  way. 

Orders  for  special  work  were  often  conspicu- 

162 


A   YOUNG   LADY  163 

ously  absent,  so  that  we  often  had  to  shut  up 
the  shop  and  go  out  upon  the  "buzz"  with 
work  made  up  on  speculation. 

The  operation  of  "buzzing"  consists  of 
placing  upon  a  barrow  several  articles  of 
furniture,  and  taking  them  from  one  wholesale 
shop  to  another  in  the  endeavour  to  effect  a 
sale.  Many  East  Enders  work  during  the  week 
and  buzz  about  on  Saturday  afternoon,  with 
disastrous  results :  they  must  either  take  a 
ridiculous  price  for  their  work,  or  go  without 
Sunday's  dinner.  Consequently  the  buying- 
prices  fall  to  impossible  limits,  as  the  prices 
given  on  a  Saturday  are  gradually  extended  to 
the  week,  and  the  buyer  declines  to  pay  more 
at  any  time. 

Ashley  Brothers  were  wise  in  their  buzzing. 
They  went  out  on  a  Monday  or  Wednesday, 
never  on  a  Saturday,  and  although  Fortune 
was  as  fickle  to  them  as  to  most,  it  is  greatly  to 
their  credit  that  they  always  paid  our  wages  at 
one  o'clock  on  Saturdays.  Most  of  the  other 
employers  in  the  vicinity  kept  their  men  hang- 
ing about  the  premises  until  as  late  as  seven 


M  2 


164    ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

o'clock  at  night  for  their  money,  and  every 
now  an'd  then  would  have  a  "  dirge  "  when  no 
money  was  available;  and  so  men  who  had 
sweated  all  the  week  took  home  nothing  but 
despair  for  their  recompense — a  state  of  things 
which  still  continues  in  little  shops. 

I  often  talked  of  these  things  to  a  young 
man  named  Howton,  whose  acquaintance  I  had 
recently  made  at  Borland  Street  Chapel;  he 
was  not  so  fortunate  as  I,  having  experienced 
several  "dirges"  (during  his  few  industrial 
years. 

I  was  now  nearly  sixteen  years  of  age,  and 
destined  soon  to  begin  my  acquaintance  with 
the  other  sex.  Without  any  desire  to  pose  as  a 
saint,  or  any  tendency  to  being  goody-goody,  I 
have  to  record  that  I  was  absolutely  without 
blemish  so  far  as  purity  was  concerned,  and 
that  woman  inspired  nothing  but  reverence  and 
homage  in  my  nature.  The  muttered  and 
occasionally  blasphemous  utterances  of  work- 
mates, and  some  fellow-members  of  the 
Webbe,  that  I  heard  continually,  conveyed 
nothing  to  my  mind.  To  be  quite  candid,  I 


A   YOUNG  LADY  165 

did  inquire  once  or  twice  what  was  meant, 
whereupon  the  other  boys  stared,  then  laughed, 
and  finally  said,  "You're  a  deep  'un,  you 
are !  " 

I  was  almost  too  shy  to  keep  with'  Simpson 
during  his  amorous  interludes.  I  wondered 
why  some  of  these  fellows  got  along  so  well 
with  girls,  and  inspired  such  evident  affection. 
What  was  wrong  with  me?  The  question 
worried  me, — I  worried  other  people  for  details 
as  to  how  they  first  got  to  know  their  wives  or 
husbands.  Then  I  deliberately  went  and  fell 
in  love  with  Bessie  Brown. 

I  use  the  term  "  deliberate  "  because  I  studied 
the  look  and  appearance  of  every  girl  present 
as  I  sat  in  chapel  one  Sunday  evening,  and 
decided  that  she  was  the  most  desirable  of 
them  all,  and  the  prettiest.  I  remember  how  I 
calmly  considered  every  girl's  "points"  in 
turn,  and  how  I  finally  decided  to  "  go  in  "  for 
her. 

Of  course  Simpson's  advice  was  indispens- 
able. "  If  you  knew  a  girl,"  I  inquired  tenta- 
tively, "  and  you  liked  her  very  much,  and  you 


had  never  even  spoken  to  her,  how  would  you 
get  to  go  out  with  her  ?  " 

"There's  no  girl  at  Borland  Street  Chapel 
that  I've  not  spoken  to,"  he  said.  "  What !  are 
you  after  some  one  ?  " 

I  paused. 

"Tell  us!"  he  entreated.  "Tell  us,  and 
I'll  help  you.  Is  it  Daisy  Jones — no?  Then 
it's  Millie  Smith;  no?  Is  it— er ?" 

"  It's  no  use,"  I  expostulated,  "  I  only  want 
to  know  how  you  get  along  with  the  girls  so 
well." 

"  Well,  who  have  you  got  your  eyes  on  ?  " 

"  You,  at  present." 

"  Ah !  you're  after  some  one  and  you  won't 
tell  me;  is  it  Bessie  Brown?" 

I  remained  silent. 

"  Fancy  Bessie  Brown !  Bit  stuck-up,  I 
think." 

"  Have  you  ever  spoken  to  her?"  I  inquired. 

"  Said  good-night  to  her  once,"  he  remem- 
bered triumphantly.  Then  he  began  to  plan 
the  introduction.  "  You  stand  by  the  door,  and 
when  she  comes  along  I'll  shake  hands  with 


A  YOUNG   LADY  167 

her,  and  then  as  she  passes  me  you  Hold  your 
hand  out,  she'll  shake  hands  with  you,  and  the 
ice  is  broke,  see?  Only  mincl,  I  tell  you 
straight,  I  believe  she's  stuck-up." 

We  waited  at  the  door;  at  last  Simpson  whis- 
pered, "  She's  coming,  hold  your  hand  out." 
I  did ;  held  my  hand  out  for  five  minutes,  then 
Simpson  announced  that  a  mistake  had  been 
made — it  was  somebody  else. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  elapsed.  "  I  believe 
that's  her,"  he  whispered  hopefully.  "  Hold 
your  hand  out." 

"  Think  I'm  a  fool  ? "  I  said  indignantly ; 
"when  she  comes  I'll  shake  hands,  but  I'm  not 
going  to  hold  my  hand  out  all  night  like  a 
policeman  on  point  duty." 

"All   right,"   he   replied,   "keep   your   'air 


on." 


,We  waited  long  and  patiently,  but  she  did 
not  come  that  evening,  and  as  each  successive 
minute  of  waiting  had  increased  my  nervous- 
ness and  raised  my  desire,  I  went  home,  firmly 
and  fixedly  in  love. 

It  seized  me  like  a  fever,  every  thought  was 


168    ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

jumbled  up  with  visions  of  Bessie.  I  passed 
her  house  five  or  six  times  every  evening,  hop- 
ing to  see  her,  living  for  a  whole  week  upon 
the  remembrance  of  her  face  as  she  stood 
buying  the  family  supper  of  fried  fish  in  the 
local  shop. 

I  shook  hands  with  her  at  last,  my  voice 
failing  to  utter  the  conventional  greeting  that 
was  on  my  lips  as  I  did  so.  Alas !  she  had 
her  head  turned  away  upon  this  auspicious 
occasion — the  sweet  memory  of  the  hand  clasp 
was  tinged  with  the  bitter  doubt :  Was  she  too 
stuck-up  to  look  at  me? 

I  found  that  by  going  to  meet  Simpson  every 
morning  I  could  see  my  divinity  on  her  way 
to  work,  consequently  I  was  out  a  full  half-hour 
before  time  every  morning. 

The  house  we  were  living  in  was  a  mysteri- 
ous place,  being  let  by  the  landlord  in  separate 
tenements,  so  that  nobody  knew  exactly  who 
did  live  there.  The  street  door  was  never 
fastened  either  by  day  or  night ;  whilst  the  door 
of  the  yard  (which  abutted  on  the  rear  of 
Turkey  Lane,  the  haunt  of  crime  and  squalor, 


A   YOUNG   LADY  169 

thieves  and  donkeys)  was  only  closed  accord- 
ing to  individual  caprice  or  nervousness.  At 
about  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  on  one  event- 
ful occasion,  a  terrific  banging  was  heard  in  the 
lower  part  of  the  premises,  loud  voices  were 
engaged  apparently  in  dispute,  whilst  loud 
shuffling  noises  continued  for  quite  a  long 
time. 

I  got  out  of  bed  to  inform  my  father,  who 
was  already  sitting  up  in  his  bed  listening. 

"  What  on  earth's  that  ?  "  I  queried,  as  the 
sound  of  another  bang  floated  heavenward. 

"  Some  of  them,"  he  indicated  the  alley  with 
a  nod — "  some  of  them  riff-raff,  I  suppose." 

Hastily  slipping  on  some  clothing  we  crept 
down  to  the  next  floor  and  looked  over  the 
banisters  to  the  landing  below.  The  little 
penny  lamp  we  kept  on  the  stairs  for  our  guid- 
ance was  feebly  alight. 

"Look  at  that!"  I  whispered;  "I  turned 
that  lamp  out  when  I  came  in." 

The  noises  had  ceased,  and  we  were  about 
to  search  the  lower  part  of  the  house  when  a 
hand  appeared  from  the  gloom  into  the  small 


170    ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

circle  of  light  and  'disappeared  with  the  lamp. 
Stealthy  footsteps  were  again  heard. 

"  Better  get  up  again,"  my  father  counselled ; 
"they'd  as  lief  murder  us  as  not."  So  we 
crept  back  up  the  stairs  again,  and  barricaded 
the  doors  with  chairs. 

In  the  morning  the  yard  Hoor  was  seen  to 
be  off  its  hinges,  whilst  an  inner  door  had  the 
whole  of  its  panelling  smashed  in.  Various 
trumpery  articles  were  strewn  about  the  yard 
indicating  the  route  of  departure  taken  by  the 
burglars. 

The  value  of  the  goods  stolen  was  two  shil- 
lings and  fourpence — and  for  that  they  had 
been  prepared  to  commit  murder.  I  was 
ashamed  to  be  seen  entering  or  leaving  such  a 
house,  especially  as  many  Dorlanders  (includ- 
ing Bessie  Brown)  passed  it  on  their  way  to 
business.  I  maintained  a  close  reticence  about 
my  address  and  people  to  most  of  them,  for  had 
I  told  I  should  have  been  'despised,  and  I  was 
not  yet  strong  enough  to  endure  that. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

MY      UNLOVED      FRIEND 

MY  parents  were  surprised  one  evening  when 
I  announced  my  intention  of  remaining  indoors, 
and  pulled  from  my  pocket  some  sheets  of 
writing-paper  and  a  pencil. 

"  What's  the  game  ? "  I  heard  somebody 
inquire. 

"Writin'  to  his  gal,"  a  younger  brother 
supposed. 

"What  are  you  stopping  in  for?,"  aske'd  my 
mother. 

"  Nothing,"  I  replied ;  "  only  I  am  going  to 
write  a  paper." 

"Write  a  what? — a  paper?  What  kind  of 
paper — noospaper?  " 

"  No,"  I  replied,  "  only  a  paper,  a  short 
article  like." 

"  And  what's  it  about?  " 

"  Oh,  about  Daniel  in  the  den  of  lions." 
171 


172    ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

Audible  sniffs  greeted  this  statement,  my 
facetious  younger  brother  interpolating  the 
remark — 

"  Got  the  religious  mania,  I  s'pose." 

"  And  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  it  when 
it's  written  ?  "  continued  my  mother. 

"  Reacl  it  to  some  more  fellows  like  myself," 
I  explained. 

'  You're  a  blankety  dashed  fine  fellow  to 
read  papers  on  Daniel  to  people.  Where  are 
you  going  to  read  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  some  place  I  go  to." 

"  O — oh !  I  wondered  where  you  got 
to  a- Sundays.  And  what  might  that  place 
be?" 

"  Dorland  Street  Chapel." 

My  brother  mimicked  the  gait  of  an  imagin- 
ary Dorlander,  raising  derisive  laughter  by  his 
antics.  A  storm  of  ridicule  and  mockery  then 
ensued,  in  which  I  clouted  my  younger 
brother's  ear,  and  received  the  same  from  my 
mother. 

It  was  impossible  to  continue  writing — so  I 
packed  my  materials  and  went  out — until  at 


MY  UNLOVED   FRIEND         173 

about  eleven  o'clock  that  night  when  the  others 
were  asleep.  I  sat  up  on  the  old  disguised 
orange-box,  and  wrote  to  my  heart's  content; 
the  stillness  of  the  night  being  only  broken  by 
the  sirens  on  the  river,  the  echoes  of  Big  Ben, 
and  the  braying  of  the  inevitable  donkey. 

On  the  Sunday  following  I  read  my  paper. 
Happily  it  was  well  received,  and  even  praised ; 
the  secretary  of  the  small  class  being  particu- 
larly loud  in  his  praises.  When  the  class  dis- 
persed, he  invited  me  to  walk  to  the  Park  with 
him.  I  accepted  his  invitation;  so,  after  un- 
hooking his  stick  from  a  hat-peg,  we  journeyed 
toward  the  Sunday  morning  Mecca  of  the 
church-going  East  Ender. 

Mr,  Harold  Vange  was  a  few  years  my 
senior,  and  until  this  particular  morning  had 
been  almost  a  stranger  to  me. 

I  took  the  opportunity  to  study  him.  He 
also  took  the  opportunity  to  study  me.  He  was 
a  tall,  spare  young  man,  of  somewhat  effemi- 
nate appearance,  of  pale  complexion  and  drawn 
face.  The  only  bright  note  about  his  generally 
drab  appearance  was  provided  by  his  eyes, 


174    ONE  OF  THE  MULTITUDE 

which  seemed  black  and  piercing.  He  swung 
his  walking-stick  in  a  measured  sort  of  fashion 
which  irritated  me,  and  shrugged  his  spare 
frame  convulsively  when  agitateH  or  animated 
by  conversation. 

He  was  alive  with  enthusiasm  for  "  the  cause 
of  the  young  men," — it  was  in  every  act  and 
word. 

I  was  a  suspicious  youth  in  whom  a  large 
amount  of  my  father's  philosophy  of  life  was 
preserved. 

"  Nobody'll  ever  help  you  in  life,  so  learn 
to  help  y'rself,"  was  one  of  his  axioms. 

"  Be  independent  and  honest,  because  you 
can  never  lose  much  if  you've  always  stood 
alone,  and  Honesty's  the  best  Policy." 

"  Don't  be  humble,  because  everybody'll 
make  a  door-mat  of  you  if  you  are,"  were 
others,  all  at  this  time  firmly  ingraine'd  in  my 
nature. 

Vange  and  I  had  Been  walking  along  and 
chatting  about  books  and  opinions  for  some 
time,  when  he  became  more  intimate,  and 
asked  me  about  my  friends. 


MY   UNLOVED   FRIEND        175 

"Got  none,"  I  replied,  "and  what's  more, 
I  'don't  particularly  want  any." 

"Friendship,"  he  said,  "is  the  most  divine 
union  on  earth.  No  man  liveth  unto  himself. 
Friendship  brings  out  the  best  in  a  man." 

I  accepted  his  view  of  friendship  because  I 
had  read  something  like  it  in  books,  but  it  was 
foreign  to  my  experience.  I  told  him  so,  and 
illustrated  my  ideas  by  telling  him  something 
of  "friendship"  as  I  had  seen  it  in  Morocco 
Street. 

"  If  that's  friendship,"  I  concluded,  "  I  want 
to  be  without  friends." 

He  pleaded  the  cause  of  friendship,  pointe'd 
out  how  much  we  depended  upon  each  other 
in  life,  and  how  barren  life  was  without  love. 

"  Love  between  two  fellows,"  I  half  ex- 
claimed ;  "  why,  it's  silly  !  " 

Vange's  spare  frame  quivered  and  shook  as 
he  explained  "  the  greatest  thing  in  the  world  " 
— love,  unfolding  a  whole  new  world  to  me. 

I  knew  myself  for  a  love-starved,  unrespon- 
sive, slum  child;  I  felt  he  was  right;  but  that 
walking-stick  of  his  got  upon  my  nerves,  those 


176    ONE   OF  THE   MULTITUDE 

convulsions  of  his  shoulders,  his  whole  drab- 
coloured  effeminate  personality  sickened  me, 
so  that  I  was  inclined  to  discount  his  words 
accordingly. 

By  what  appeared  to  be  a  chain  of  rather 
remarkable  accidents  I  found  myself  in 
Vange's  company  very  nearly  every  evening 
after  this.  The  conversation  that  passed  be- 
tween us  was  most  attractive  to  me.  Opinions 
about  books,  authors,  ideas,  and  religion  were 
the  subject  of  most  of  our  discussions.  I 
had  strong  prejudices,  and  almost  primitive 
methods  of  expressing  them,  whilst  Vange  was 
more  mature  and  polished,  knew  more  of  a 
fuller  life  than  myself;  and  by  the  incessant 
grinding  of  his  opinion  upon  my  opinion,  his 
thought  upon  my  prejudice,  wore  down  many 
of  my  jagged  edges,  and  shaped  me  into  the 
image  of  an  ordinary  sort  of  middle-class 
youth. 

I  was  soon  convinced  that  I  had  hitherto 
missed  that  great  gift  of  God — a  friend. 
Vange  protested  his  friendship  towards  me 
over-much,  so  that  I  was  torn  between  physical 


MY  UNLOVED   FRIEND        177 

dislike  and  mental  affinity.  I  liked  his  ideas, 
his  friendship;  would  that  they  had  been  allied 
to  a  different  personality ! 

I  read  and  thought  much  about  friendship. 
I  could  not  refuse  the  gift  of  a  friend.  I 
deemed  it  to  be  so  rarely  offered  to  a  man, 
that  in  the  words  of  Polonius  I  must  "grapple 
him  to  my  heart  with  hooks  of  steel."  Why 
couldn't  I  love  him  in  return?  I  passionately 
inquired  of  myself,  and  I  constantly  reproached 
my  personal  prejudices,  but  it  was  of  no 
avail.  I  desired  friendship,  I  was  anxious  to 
be  befriended,  but  I  did  not  like  my  friend. 

In  the  midst  of  a  most  engrossing  conversa- 
tion, whilst  threading  my  way  through  some 
subtle  argument,  I  would  notice  with  horror 
his  writhes  and  gestures,  and  would  have  to  be 
dumb  for  hours  afterwards,  pretending  to  be 
absent-minded,  or  else  lost  in  the  intricacies  of 
my  own  beautiful  phrases,  because  I  could  not 
hurt  his  feelings  wittingly. 

I  left  the  Webbe  Institute  at  this  time,  be- 
cause it  had  quite  outgrown  its  usefulness  to 
me,  although  not  without  some  pang,  for  I  had 


N 


178    ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

gained  little  but  good  from  my  association 
with  the  club,  whilst  the  slight  acquaintance  I 
had  made  with  Oxford  undergraduates  had 
meant  a  great  deal  by  permeating  my  thought 
with  different  standards  of  life  and  living. 

Vange  lived  in  a  select  corner  of  the  East 
End,  in  a  place  where  trees  actually  grew  be- 
fore and  behind  the  houses,  where  overcrowd- 
ing was  unknown,  and  "  top-hats  "  the  rule  on 
Sunday.  I  visited  his  people  very  often,  saw 
the  happy  home  life  they  led,  admired,  and 
perhaps  envied  a  little,  the  snug  little  room  he 
had  to  himself. 

After  much  persuasion  I  told  him  fragments 
of  my  home  life — of  how  we  slept  wedgewise 
in  the  bed,  and  some  of  the  incidents  in  my 
early  life.  He  was  most  sympathetic,  and 
wondered  why  I  "stuck"  it. 

'  They're  always  telling  me  I  can  go,"  I 
used  to  reply.  "  If  I  dare  to  suggest  it's  un- 
healthy they  talk  about  ingratitude,  say  I'm 
'gallows-bred,'  and  things  like  that.  I  often 
feel  like  going,  but  they  can't  really  get  on 
without  my  wages,  so  how  can  I  leave  them  ?  " 


MY  UNLOVED   FRIEND        179 

"Why  should  you  ruin  your  life  for  them?" 
he  would  retort.  "  Because  they  have  made  a 
failure  of  their  lives,  why  ruin  your  own  pros- 
pects and  your  health  for  their  idea  of  gratitude 
and  filial  devotion,  which  is  most  selfish  and 
one-sided  ?. " 

My  wages  at  this  time  formed  a  large  item 
in  the  family  income.  I  was  now  earning  four- 
pence-halfpenny  an  hour,  having  left  Ashley 
Brothers  in  answer  to  an  advertisement  offering 
a  higher  salary;  then  leaving  that  situation  for 
a  higher  wage  still. 

My  love  for  Bessie  was  as  great  as  ever  and 
as  remote  as  ever,  although  we  had  conversed 
in  monosyllables. 


N2 


CHAPTER   XXII 

DISILLUSION   AND   A    '  NORATION ' 

THE  Chapel's  "  Christian  Endeavour " 
Society  arranged  a  Saturday  afternoon  outing 
to  Theydon  Bois,  a  beautiful  village  near 
Epping  Forest. 

The  great  event  was  duly  heralded  and 
discussed  among  the  young  people,  Simpson 
being  especially  full  of  the  particulars. 

"  Me  an'  my  girl's  going,"  he  assured  me. 
"  It's  going  to  be  a  rare  treat,  y'know, — walk 
arm-in-arm  through  the  Forest,  and  all  sing 
hymns  a-coming  home;  it's  all  right,  I  can 
tell  you." 

"  Oh !  I  am  not  going  to  miss  it,"  I  replied ; 
"  I  like  outings  like  that." 

"So  do  I,"  he  continued.  "You'll  be  all 
right,  y'know;  Bessie  Brown'll  be  there  too — 
I  know  that  for  a  fact,  because  I  heard  her  tell 
Mrs.  Pebbles  that  she'd  be  ready  when  Mrs. 

Pebbles  called  for  her." 

1 80 


DISILLUSION  &  A  'NORATION'    181 

I  thanked  Simpson  for  the  information 
and  decided  mentally  to  put  my  fortune  to 
the  test,  and  propose,  if  the  opportunity 
occurred. 

The  beautiful  Forest  was  at  its  best  when 
our  party  finally  met  upon  its  fringe — wooded 
glades  leading  the  vision  toward  stretches  of 
green  vales,  innumerable  birds  singing  in  the 
thickets,  hedgerows  scented  and  crowned  by 
honeysuckle. 

For  a  time  we  were  silenced  by  the  beauty 
around  us,  then  with  shout  and  laugh  we 
scampered  through  the  woods,  finding  many  a 
strange  thing,  and  revelling  in  our  unwonted 
elbow  room. 

,We  sat  down  to  tea,  a  happy  jovial  feast  in 
a  disused  barn. 

I  sat  among  a  little  group  of  "  unattached  " 
young  men,  with  Howton  upon  my  right  and 
one  Robert  Mumford  to  my  left. 

Howton,  poor  chap,  was  out  of  work.  "  Got 
the  blessed  hump  !  "  he  said.  "  When  you 
have  got  work  it's  slavery,  and  you're  not  sure 
of  your  wages;  and  when  you've  got  none 


182    ONE   OF  THE   MULTITUDE 

nobody  wants  you — look  down  upon  you  as  a 
rogue,  in  fact." 

I  sympathized  with  him  vocally,  but  in  my 
heart  I  thought  he  must  be  rather  a  duffer. 
I  had  never  been  out  of  work  myself,  and  with- 
out that  salutary  experience  most  people  are 
quite  incapable  of  really  understanding  what 
being  out  of  work  is  like.  I  certainly  put  it 
down  then  to  some  incapacity  on  his  part,  and 
merely  murmured  polite  sympathy.  The  other 
listener,  MumforH,  was  frankly  contemptuous 
of  an  out-of-work,  and  proceeded  in  a  curiously 
complacent  and  self-satisfied  way  to  extol  his 
own  virtues,  and  to  prove  to  his  own  satisfac- 
tion that  he  himself  could  never  be  out  of 
employment. 

I  left  Mumford  and  Howton  arguing  hotly, 
whilst  I  went  out  after  tea  to  look  about  for 
Miss  Brown,  and  eventually  found  her — alone. 

My  heart  beat  very  rapidly  as  I  spoke,  with 
an  ill-assumed  nonchalance,  upon  several 
topics.  She  returned  monosyllabic  answers 
without  embarrassment,  but  apparently  by  rote, 
with  all  the  mechanical  sayings  of  the  most 


DISILLUSION  &  A  «  NORATION  '    183 

ordinary  East  End  girl.  A  fearful  thought 
struck  me.:  Was  this  person  only  a  goddess 
of  my  own  creation  ?  Was  this  the  girl  I  loved, 
or  did  I  love  some  imagined  creature  with  a 
similar  face  and  name?  Had  I  endowed  a 
pleasing  face  and  form  with  non-existent 
virtues  and  graces?  The  faltering  proposal 
on  my  lips  remained  inarticulate;  what  if  I 
were  making  a  mistake?  A  silence  fell  be- 
tween us;  Mrs.  Pebbles  rushed  up  and  hastened 
Bessie  away. 

I  plunged  into  the  Forest,  and,  with  the 
switch  I  cut,  lashed  out  right  and  left,  cleaving 
my  way  through  the  tangled  undergrowth 
absent-mindedly. 

I  had  fallen  in  love  at  first  sight,  I  told 
myself,  and  had  fallen  out  at  the  second.  In 
that  walk  through  the  Forest  I  discovered  that 
I  had  been  in  love  with  Ideal  Womanhood 
rather  than  with  Bessie  Brown. 

I  had  personified  my  ideal,  and  was  shocked 
to  find  my  divinity,  on  close  inspection,  no- 
thing more  than  a  very  ordinary,  rather  pretty, 
shallow-brained  girl. 


184    ONE   OF  THE  MULTITUDE 

Little  incidents  anH  trivial  remarks  I  had 
previously  disregarded  now  occurred  to  my 
memory  confirming  my  judgment.  It  was  my 
first  great  disillusion;  I  beat  my  switch  upon 
the  tree-trunks,  and  lopped  off  the  branches 
of  blackberry  bushes  with  renewed  energy  as 
I  retraced  my  steps. 

"  Want  to  knock  my  eye  out  ? "  somebody 
said. 

It  was  Mumford. 

I  passed  on  with  apologies. 

"  I  say !  "  he  shouted  after  me,  "  I  should 
like  to  have  a  word  with  you." 

"What  do  you  want?"  I  inquired. 

"  Oh  !  come  this  way,"  replied  he. 

When  we  were  clear  of  the  other  members 
of  the  party,  he  resumed — 

"  Didn't  I  see  you  talking  to  Bessie  Brown 
just  now?  " 

"What's  it  to  do  with  you?"  I  retorted 
hotly. 

"  Don't  get  excited,  I  don't  mind,"  he  re- 
plied. "  Now  I  want  to  know  what  sort  of  girl 
she  is — do  you  want  to  go  out  with  her  ? " 


DISILLUSION  &  A  « NORATION '    185 

I  paused  a  moment.  "  No,"  I  finally  said, 
with  emphasis. 

"  Well,  if  she's  all  right,  I  'don't  mind  having 
her,"  Mumford  said  condescendingly.  "Only 
I  wanted  to  make  sure." 

"  And  supposing  she  won't  have  you  ? "  I 
interposed. 

"Oh,  don't  worry  about  that,"  he  replied. 
"  I've  only  got  to  give  the  word  and  I  could 
get  any  girl  at  Borland  Street  Chapel  I  liked." 

At  this  juncture  Howton  reappeared,  and  I 
spent  the  rest  of  the  evening  with  him. 

At  the  Sunday  evening  meeting  Mumford 
sat  with  Miss  Brown,  and  exhibited  all  the 
proprietary  signs  of  the  "attached"  young 
man. 

He  nodded  affably  to  me  as  we  rose  to  sing 
a  hymn,  a  nod  of  conscious  greatness,  which 
plainly  said,  "As  you  see,  I  came,  I  saw,  I 
conquered." 

The  man  I  was  now  working  for  was  fast 
losing  his  trade.  Orders  became  very  scarce, 
so  in  order  to  avoid  poor  Howton's  fate  I 


186    ONE   OF   THE  MULTITUDE 

looked  round  one  Monday  morning — that  is  to 
say,  I  inspected  various  ironmongers'  shops  to 
see  if  any  bill-heads  were  displayed  announc- 
ing that  a  "  Chap  "  was  wanted.  The  grades 
are  'distinct :  first  one  is  a  "  Boy,"  then  a 
"Lad,"  after  that  a  "Chap,"  and  finally  a 
"  Maker." 

A  bill  was  being  stuck  upon  the  window  just 
as  I  reached  one  shop,  so  I  rushed  off  imme- 
diately to  the  address  given,  applied  for  the 
job",  and  succeeded,  at  fivepence  per  hour. 
With  jubilation  I  returned  and  packed  up  my 
tools,  said  good-bye  to  my  shopmates,  and 
began  to  carry  the  tools  to  my  new  shop. 

On  my  way  I  met  Howton.  "  Hullo  !  "  he 
said  glumly.  "Of  course  you've  got  that  job 
at  Stratford's?" 

'Yes;  how  did  you  know?"  I  inquired. 

"  Oh,  I  dunno,  you  always  seem  to  be  on 
the  spot,"  he  replied ;  "  I  got  there  and  was 
told  they  were  suited, — I  knew  it  was  you." 

I  really  felt  very  sorry  to  have  spoilt  his 
chance,  but  I  thought  of  Ashley  Brothers' 
motto  :  "  Business  is  War."  I  remembered, 


DISILLUSION  &  A  'NORATION'    187 

besides,  that  I  had  "packed  up,"  there  could 
be  no  going  back. 

Howton  soon  got  work  again,  and  suggested 
that  we  should  both  leave  home  and  take  a 
room  together;  but  I  could  not  leave  my  people 
while  it  was  at  all  possible  to  remain.  I  knew 
they  depended  on  my  wages,  although  they 
often  told  me  to  go,  and  said  they  lost  money 
over  me — this,  though  I  contributed  almost  as 
much  as  my  father. 

I  had  a  Sunday  suit,  which  was  always 
pawned  by  my  mother  on  Monday  morning 
and  redeemed  on  Saturday  night.  Several 
times  I  had  to  advance  the  money  they  were 
"  in  "  for,  that  I  might  wear  them  the  next  day. 

The  money-lender  to  whom  my  mother  was 
deeply  in  debt  came  round  one  day,  and 
created  a  "  Noration,"  as  the  natives  call  it. 
She  bustled  up  to  the  door  and  knocked  two 
or  three  dozen  times,  then  she  screamed  up  the 
stairs — 

"  Come  down — you  !  Call  yerself  a  respect- 
able 'ard-working  woman  and  you  go  on  owing 
me  three  pounds  odd  ?  " 


188    ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

A  large  crowd  gathered,  eager  to  catch  every 
detail.  With  great  difficulty  I  restrained  my 
mother  from  going  down,  and  went  down  the 
stairs  myself  to  meet  the  howling  virago. 

"Look  here,  Mrs.  Short,"  I  said,  "if  you 
don't  shut  your  row  and  clear  out  of  it,  I'll 
fetch  a  policeman  and  lock  you  up." 

"Where's  my  three  pounds  odd?"  she 
raved. 

"  You've  had  over  five  pounds  already,"  I 
said,  "what  with  repayments  and  interest; 
besides,  you're  not  licensed." 

I  had  drawn  a  bow  at  a  venture,  but  it  had 
hit  the  mark.  She  ceased  to  rave  immediately, 
and  left  us  in  peace  a  few  minutes  later.  So 
far  as  I  know  she  never  troubled  us  again. 

o 

Such  people  are  truly  land-sharks  whose 
teeth  a  wise  community  must  draw,  or  else 
muzzle  by  limiting  the  rate  of  interest,  and  by 
registration  and  licence.  Once  they  get  a  hold 
upon  a  family  nothing  but  a  sudden  accession 
of  fortune  can  ever  extricate  them  unless  they 
are  prepared  to  risk  a  "  Noration,"  and  possibly 
the  ordeal  of  battle. 


DISILLUSION  &  A  'NORATION'    189 

At  the  other  end  of  the  street  affairs  were 
still  very  much  the  same  as  ever.  Mrs.  Jordan 
was  still  maintaining  her  family  by  means  of 
"  The  Little  Wonder,"  although  several  cob- 
blers had  been  employed  in  succession  since 
the  days  of  "  Old  Bill."  The  Potters  and  the 
Timminses  still  competed  for  the  honours  of 
respectability;  their  children  were  by  this  time 
all  out  to  work,  and  so  assisted  their  parents 
with  wages  and  ambitions  of  their  own. 

And  yet  changes  had  taken  place :  Mrs. 
Dartmouth  and  her  gouty  husband  were  dead, 
the  house  they  occupied  as  direct  tenants  be- 
ing now  let  to  Jews;  the  Cohens  had  departed, 
and  were  replaced  by  others  with  unpronounce- 
able names ;  and  so,  by  little  changes,  the  wheel 
of  life  altered  the  outlook  of  the  fresh  genera- 
tion who  were  singing  our  old  songs  and  play- 
ing our  discarded  games. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 


EQUIPPED  as  I  am  at  this  moment  of  writing 
with  fuller  experience,  with  a  certain  tranquil 
philosophy  of  life,  with  a  few  of  the  earthly 
things  I  dreamed  of  and  hoped  for  in  my 
earlier  days — equipped  as  I  am,  I  wonder  why 
I  remained  with  my  people  for  so  long,  why  I 
hesitated  to  take  the  severing  step.  Why  did 
I  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  all  their  cheap  witticisms 
at  my  expense?  Why  did  I  sleep  with  my 
brothers'  toes  upon  my  pillow  for  so  long? 
Why  did  I  not  take  my  parents  at  their  word, 
and  leave  the  home  for  which  they  said  I  was 
too  big?, 

I  can  only  answer :  I  dared  not.  Not  that  I 
was  physically  afraid  of  the  consequences,  but 
I  dared  not  violate  my  firmest  convictions;  I 
dared  not  neglect  what  I  conceived  to  be  my 

plain  duty. 

190 


OUT   OF   WORK  191 

My  duty  was  one  of  economics,  or  so  I  was 
persuaded.  Do  not  revile  me,  dear  reader,  if 
I  fail  to  indulge  in  flights  of  rhetoric,  showing 
how  unselfish  and  loving  was  my  devotion,  if 
I  feel  I  must  insist  upon  the  monetary  im- 
portance of  my  relationship  to  my  parents, 
instead  of  the  deepest  filial  devotion. 

I  was  proud  of  my  parents  in  a  way;  they 
had  lived  a  hard,  rough  life,  and  still  retained 
many  rough  edges,  with  a  refreshing  independ- 
ence of  thought  and  utterance ;  were  real,  live, 
individuals;  my  mother's  was  a  passionate 
nature,  my  father's  calmer,  more  philosophical, 
with  natural  wit,  yet  with  more  of  the  animal 
in  his  composition  when  really  roused. 

I  cannot  pretend  that  my  admiration  for 
them  was  mixed  with  any  sort  of  affection,  nor 
did  they  ever  show  the  smallest  spark  of  love 
toward  me.  Rightly  or  wrongly  I  was  deeply 
dissatisfied  wth  my  home  life,  and  longed  for 
what  I  conceived  to  be  an  ideal  existence — 
that  of  a  lodger  in  a  room  tastefully  furnished, 
and  all  to  myself. 

I   looked  upon   ideals  as  a   succession   of 


192    ONE   OF   THE  MULTITUDE 

ladder  steps,  and  thought  that  as  each  ideal 
was  attained,  another,  of  a  higher  nature,  would 
become  apparent.  I  asked  but  little  of  life  at 
a  time,  and  when  I  got  it,  asked  again  for 
something  better,  although,  all  the  while,  I 
was  very  ambitious  of  eventual  fame. 

Sometimes,  as  was  only  natural,  my  inner- 
most desires  and  longings  burst  into  speech. 
I  suggested  all  sorts  of  wild  plans  for  the 
family's  betterment,  but  the  upshot  was  always, 
"  If  you  don't  like  our  home — clear  out." 

That,  as  I  have  .said,  I  dared  not  do,  so  I 
bent  my  agitations  into  the  demand  for  a 
separate  bed,  upon  the  grounds  of  failing 
vitality. 

My  mother  bought  a  folding  chair-bed  for 
a  shilling;  by  day  it  was  sprawled  over  by  the 
younger  generation,  by  night  it  was  expanded 
about  six  inches  off  the  floor  to  form  my  couch. 
The  torments  of  that  bed !  Every  night  with 
monotonous  regularity  it  broke  down  soon  after 
I  fell  asleep,  so  that  I  was  often  glad  to  push 
my  brothers  this  way  and  that  to  lie  once  more 
upon  their  bed,  or  else  curl  myself  up  in  the 


OUT    OF    WORK  193 

ruins  of  the  chair-bed,  and  trust  to  tired  Nature 
to  make  me  sleep.  I  did  not  complain,  because 
I  was  then  reading  Smiles's  Self-Help  in  the 
small  hours  of  the  morning,  and  Carlyle's 
Sartor  Resartus  by  day. 

I  fancied  myself  a  Teufelsdrockh,  perched 
as  I  was  on  an  orange-box,  with  revilings  and 
cursings,  midnight  roysterings,  and  the  pathetic 
cry  of  some  over-stocked  hot-potato  man,  all 
rising  from  the  darkness  to  feed  my  fancy  and 
my  ambitions.  My  ambitions  !  what  high-flown 
desires  were  mine  at  that  time  !  I  could  hardly 
decide  whether  I  should  choose  to  be  a  second 
Shakespeare,  or  a  Prime  Minister,  or  whether 
I  should  be  content  to  beat  Dickens,  a  man  I 
place  next  to  the  Swan  of  Avon. 

I  had  no  doubt  whatever  that  I  could  master 
circumstances,  if  only  I   could  make  up  my 
mind  what  I  should  be. 
Strange  fancies  of  youth  !  but  the  end  is  not  yet. 

One  night  a  violent  quarrel  arose  at  home 
over  some  petty  incident  or  other,  for  which  I 
was  abused  and  assaulted. 

I  am  a  peaceful  person  by  nature  and  pos- 


194    ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

sess  a  beautiful  temper,  because  it  is  so  fright- 
fully bad  that  I  have  kept  it  down  with  all  my 
might  since  I  had  understanding. 

I  can  definitely  recall  three,  and  only  three, 
occasions  upon  which  I  have  really  lost  com- 
mand of  my  temper,  and  this  was  one.  I 
stormed  and  raved  at  their  execrations,  met 
their  sneers  with  scorn  and  vitriolic  phrases; 
but  all  things  have  an  ending;  the  night  and 
Self -Help  rounded  off  this  day  of  turmoil; 
although  for  over  a  week  my  family  refused  to 
speak  to  me  in  consequence  of  the  "  row." 

I  decided  to  stay  no  longer;  come  what  may 
I  would  leave  the  "nest"  (facetious  phrase 
used  by  my  parents)  and  try  my  own  wings. 

It  was  not  so  ordained  yet,  for  on  the  follow- 
ing Saturday  I  was  told  to  "  pack  up  "  at  the 
workshop  as  trade  was  too  quiet  for  my  em- 
ployer to  keep  me  employed.  Of  course  I  was 
dejected,  but  went  out  on  the  following  Mon- 
day morning  full  of  the  hope  that  something 
would  turn  up. 

I  went  the  round  of  ironmongers'  shops  sev- 
eral times  that  day,  but  not  a  bill  was  to  be  seen. 


OUT   OF   WORK  195 

"  Never  mind,"  I  thought,  "  to-morrow  some- 
thing must  turn  up." 

Tuesday  came,  and  went.  I  could  not 
understand  it.  I  was  fully  conversant  with  my 
work,  was  well  worth  my  money,  intelligent, 
honest — and  smart,  I  believed,  in  appearance; 
yet  there  was  no  work  for  me  to  do,  although 
my  fingers  fairly  itched  for  occupation. 

I  tramped  to  the  ends  of  London  answering 
advertisements,  but  they  were  always  "  suited," 
if  indeed  they  had  ever  wanted  anybody. 

I  firmly  believe  that  many  firms  advertise 
for  hands,  simply  to  pretend  they  are  busy. 

Pleasant  sport,  my  masters,  but  what  of  the 
hungry,  heart-broken  mechanic,  who  knows  he 
has  brains  and  ability,  to  whom  you  airily 
announce  that  you  are  "suited,"  although  he 
was  at  your  shop  door  before  you  arrived? 

And  then,  when  you  write  his  address  upon 
a  stray  post-card,  do  you  realize  what  days  of 
expectancy,  with  all  its  coming  bitterness  of 
(disillusion,  you  are  creating  for  him? 

I  grew  quite  despondent  after  Wednesday, 
and  then  day  by  day  my  nerves  became  more 


o  2 


196    ONE    OF   THE    MULTITUDE 

tense  and  strained.  I  would  read  the  advertise- 
ments in  the  daily  papers,  rush  to  the  addresses 
indicated,  and  then,  after  receiving  the  usual 
reply,  "  Suited,"  would  go  the  round  of  the 
ironmongers'  shop  windows,  after  which  some 
automatic  impulse  took  me  to  the  Public 
Library,  where  I  would  sit,  casually  reading 
any  kind  of  periodical. 

I  had  been  out  of  work  a  fortnight,  and  was 
growing  well-nigh  desperate,  when  a  bill-head 
advertising  for  a  "  maker  "  caused  me  to  direct 
my  steps  to  a  certain  little  by-street  in  which 
were  situated  a  few  backyard  shops. 

"  Morning,"  I  said  to  a  slatternly  woman, 
who  was  half-heartedly  cleaning  the  windows; 
"guv'nor  in?" 

'  Think  so,"  she  replied,  shouting  out 
"  Bill !  "  through  the  passage. 

"  Hullo !  "  said  a  voice,  and  the  next  in- 
stant a  man  who  must  have  been  the  original  of 
the  Pears'  Soap  Tramp  became  visible. 

"  Well  ?  "  he  said,  as  he  saw  me.  "  Good- 
morning,  sir;  what  can  I  do  for  you?" 

'  You  want  a  '  maker '  ?  "  I  queried. 


OUT   OF   WORK  197 

His  manner  changed  immediately.  "  Thought 
you'd  brought  an  order,"  he  grumbled.  "  Well, 
what  can  you  do  ?  " 

"Oh,  most  things  in  this  line,"  I  replied. 
"  What  do  you  want  done  ?  " 

"  I  want  a  chap,"  he  said,  "  who  can  make 
right  out — make  double-bow  sideboards,  and 
do  'em  quick ;  what's  your  price  ?  " 

I  pondered  a  moment — this  man  evidently 
wanted  a  lot  for  his  money,  so  I  said,  "  Seven- 
pence  an  hour." 

"  Won't  get  it  off  me,"  he  said ;  "  I  can  get 
a  chap  any  day  for  fourpence." 

"  Well,  you  don't  get  me  for  fourpence,"  I 
retorted.  "  No  decent  chap  with  any  principle 
would  finish  right  out  for  that  money." 

"  Oh  !  your  '  principle '  won't  keep  you,"  he 
replied. 

We  were  now  getting  angry. 

"No,"  I  shouted,  "perhaps  not;  but  neither 
will  your  fourpence  an  hour." 

I  could  see  pretty  clearly  that  I  should  never 
work  for  this  man,  so  I  expressed  myself  pretty 
freely  about  sweating,  etc. 


198    ONE   OF  THE   MULTITUDE 

"  Go  away,"  he  raved,  "  or  I'll  give  you 
the  worst  licking  you've  had  in  your  natural !  " 

"  Do  what  ?  "  I  answered.  "  Why,  you  could 
do  with  a  lick  of  some  sort  yourself — a  good 
bath  wouldn't  hurt  you." 

Matters  were  looking  somewhat  pugilistic. 
A  small  crowd  of  encouraging  loafers  from  a 
neighbouring  public-house  were  urging  us  to 
'  'Ave  it  out,"  when  the  slatternly  woman,  who 
had  been  in  retirement,  darted  out  and  pulled 
her  husband  forcibly  back  into  the  passage 
and  slammed  the  door.  So  I  retraced  my  steps 
and  went  back  to  the  ironmongers'. 

I  felt  elated.  This  sudden  gust  of  passion 
had  roused  me,  so  when  I  saw  another  bill  for 
a  "  chap,"  I  tore  it  down  from  the  window  and 
applied  for  the  job  with  confidence  and  a 
springing  gait.  The  address  led  me  again  to 
a  backyard  shop,  but  in  a  different  locality. 
My  knock  was  answered  by  a  large-featured, 
heavily-set  young  man  who  reminded  me  im- 
mediately of  Timmins  Senior. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  he  said  gruffly. 

"  Guv'nor  about?"  I  inquired. 


OUT   OF    WORK  199 

"  Go  right  through ;  'e's  a  foreigner." 

I  went  through  into  the  shop  and  saw  a 
small  man  wearing  an  apron  over  his  coat,  and 
peering  through  his  spectacles  at  some  very 
minute  pieces  of  wood — which  the  most  eco- 
nomical person  would  have  burned  as  too  small 
for  use;  a  cigarette  was  between  the  fingers  of 
one  hand,  whilst  with  the  other  he  toyed  with 
a  heavy  moustache. 

"  I  saw  this  at  Clark's,"  I  said,  showing  him 
the  bill-head  I  had  brought  with  me.  "  Do 
you  want  a  chap  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  he  said  slowly,  with  a  pro- 
nounced foreign  accent.  "  But — why  did  you 
took  de  bill  down  ?  " 

"Well,"  I  replied,  "I  thought  that  if  you 
were  suited  you  wouldn't  want  it  up  any  longer, 
and  if  you  weren't  suited  I  would  be  the  '  chap ' 
you  were  advertising  for." 

He  lifted  his  head  and  looked  me  calmly  in 
the  eyes  for  a  minute  or  so,  took  a  deliberate 
puff  at  his  cigarette,  and  then  said,  "  How  much 
do  you  want  ?  " 

I  thought  a  moment :  times  were  bad,  I  could 


200    ONE  OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

not  hold  out  much  longer.  "  Fivepence,"  I 
said. 

Another  calm  inspection  took  place  before 
he  said,  "Well,  I  like  you,  you've  got  plenty 
of  cheek  and  I  expect  you're  worth  your 
money,  so  bring  your  tools  in  and  start  at  two 
o'clock." 

As  I  went  through  the  house  passage  the 
heavy  young  man,  whose  name  was  Stanley 
Augustus,  commonly  abbreviated  to  Joe, 
ceased  to  lean  upon  the  front  door,  and  said 
in  what  was  meant  to  be  an  impressive  whis- 
per, "  'Ow  yer  got  on  ?  " 

"Oh,  all  right,"  I  replied.  "Start  at  two 
o'clock  this  afternoon." 

'  'Ow  much  yer  getting  ?  "  he  added,  with  an 
elephantine  effort  to  be  subtle  in  his  manner. 

I  told  him  fivepence,  there  was  no  reason  or 
advantage  in  withholding  the  information  so 
far  as  I  could  see. 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right !  "  he  half  grunted. 
"  I  get  five  an'  'arf ;  P  been  here  two  or  three 
years,  and  ought  to  get  more'n  you." 

I  did  not  reply  to  this  piece  of  logic,  but 


OUT   OF   WORK 


201 


hastened  off  to  see  that  my  tools  were  in 
proper  :>rder ;  then  had  my  dinner,  after  which  I 
shoulde:ed  my  kit  of  tools,  and  at  two  o'clock 
precisely  donned  my  apron  and  once  again 
started  wirk. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

OUR   INDUSTRIAL    '  SYSTEM 

STANLEY  AUGUSTUS  very  quick'y  took  me 
under  his  wing.  Although  my  owi  knowledge 
of  the  trade  was  much  greater  than  his,  he 
lost  no  opportunity  of  kindly  shewing  me  how 
to  do  things.  At  first  I  was  smply  amused, 
but  such  patronage  soon  j.-des  on  one's 
appetite,  so  I  began  to  feel  resentful  at  his 
interference,  especially  as  I  jften  got  behind 
with  my  own  work  in  order  t>  help  him  out  of 
some  difficulty. 

"  Joe's  "  duties  were  man\  When  he  was  not 
working  in  the  shop  he  vas  taking  the  work 
home  on  a  barrow,  or  ese  running  errands. 
Saturday  afternoon  he  invariably  accompanied 
the  "governor,"  Mr.  3inaud,  to  a  certain 
public-house  much  frequented  by  a  cosmo- 
politan crowd,  and  kn>wn  as  the  "  Duck  and 
Goslings." 

"  Rare  doin's  at  ne  '  Duck  and  Goslings ' 


202 


OUR   INDUSTRIAL    'SYSTEM'    203 

larst  Saturday,"  said  Joe  on  the  following 
Monday  morning. 

"Oh!"  I  replied,  "what  was  that?" 

"  Ah !  "  he  continued,  "  I  could  say  some- 
thing. Absence  makes  the  heart  grow  fonder, 
you  know." 

"Absence?"  I  inquired.  "What  has  absence 
to  do  with  it  ? " 

"  Drink  a  lot  of  absence  round  there," 
he  said  pityingly.  "  Don't  you  know  what 
absence  is  ?  " 

"Absinthe,  you  mean,"  I  corrected. 

"Never  'card  of  it;  Mr.  Pinaud  calls  it 
absence,  an'  'e's  a  foreigner,  so  'e  ought  to 
know."  Then,  smacking  his  lips,  "  It's  grand." 

"Well,  as  I  was  a-sayin'  of,"  he  continued, 
"there  was  rare  doin's.  The  guv'nor  betted 
a  man  a  quid  that  he  could  get  the  barmaid's 
boot  on  his  foot.  So  he  takes  off  his  own  boot, 
and  while  'e's  a-tryin'  to  get  the  other  one  on 
somebody  hides  his'n.  He  couldn't  get  the 
barmaid's  boot  on,  so  he  lost  the  sovereign. 
Then  when  he  turns  round  for  to  put  'is  own 
on,  he  could  see  somebody  had  '  pinched '  it. 


204    ONE   OF   THE  MULTITUDE 

He  said  to  some  man  who  was  standing  near 
him,  '  I'll  bet  you  half-a-sovereign  you  took 
my  boot,'  and  of  course  he  'adn't,  so  'e  'ad  to 
part  up  with  thirty  shillings.  All  took  place 
in  abaht  ten  minutes,  too." 

Accustomed  as  I  was  to  the  grind  of  poverty, 
and  knowing  from  experience  that  to  many 
people  thirty  shillings  would  have  seemed  a 
fortune,  I  said — 

"  What  a  wicked  waste  of  money !  " 

My  bench-mate  would  have  none  of  it. 
"  Money,"  he  replied,  "  is  made  round  so  as  to 
circulate,  and  it's  public-houses  that  makes  it 
spin." 

I  agreed.  "  Out  of  the  workers'  hands,  and 
into  the  sharps' !  " 

I  felt  rather  indignant  about  my  governor's 
folly,  especially  as  I  considered  that  he  made 
his  profits  principally  out  of  the  labours  of 
Joe,  myself,  and  the  two  girl  polishers  he  em- 
ployed. The  personal  moral  I  drew  from  the 
story  and  of  many  other  transactions  equally 
foolish,  detailed  to  me  on  succeeding  Monday 
mornings,  was — that  I  must  never  allow  my- 


OUR   INDUSTRIAL   'SYSTEM'     205 

self  to  go  into  a  "  pub,"  business  considerations 
notwithstanding,  however  much  I  was,  and 
would  be,  entreated,  even  though  ostensibly 
only  to  partake  of  lemonade.  I  thought  that 
if  I  had  the  strength  of  mind  to  decline  to 
enter  such  places  I  should  be  spared  many 
temptations  and  many  degrading  influences. 

So  far  as  the  waste  of  money  was  concerned 
(Pinaud  was  always  a  loser),  I  began  to  feel 
as  time  went  on  that  my  governor  was  simply 
drawing  the  cream  off  our  exertions,  and  that 
his  profits  must  have  been  large  to  allow  him 
to  indulge  in  such  follies,  and  to  maintain  a 
house  in  the  outer  suburbs  to  which  the  bar- 
loungers  of  the  "  Duck  and  Goslings " 
travelled  every  Sunday  morning  to  get  free 
drinks,  during  prohibited  hours. 

When  such  men  called  at  the  workshop  to 
see  if  Pinaud  was  in,  I  adopted  a  curt  off-hand 
manner  towards  them  which  greatly  incensed 
Stanley  Augustus,  whose  great  ideal  was  to 
pose  as  "hail-fellow-well-met"  all  round. 

These  people  were  simply  plucking  a  goose. 
Pinaud  was  astute  in  some  directions,  but  an 


206    ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

appeal  to  his  vanity  always  resulted  in  addi- 
tional ducks  and  drakes  at  the  "  Duck  and 
Goslings."  "  Open-hearted  friend,"  "  The 
soul  of  the  party,"  "The  indispensable  chair- 
man,"— these  were  the  terms  which  flattered 
and  ruined  him. 

In  every  respect  he  was  the  best  governor  I 
had  experienced.  Without  asking,  my  wages 
were  raised  during  the  year  I  worked  for  him, 
from  fivepence  to  sevenpence  an  hour;  and 
when  some  frolic  delayed  him  at  the  "  pub  " 
on  Saturday  afternoons  he  would  return  late, 
but  apologetic,  and  would  pay  our  wages  up 
to  the  very  moment  of  waiting,  although  per- 
haps we  had  been  standing  still  for  three  hours. 
I  have  never  heard  of  another  governor  who 
did  the  same. 

Yet  I  often  thought  of  starting  business  on 
my  own  account.  I  knew  every  branch  of 
Pinaud's  business  by  this  time,  and  thought : 
Surely  by  opening  a  shop  and  getting  custom 
for  the  same  class  of  work  I  could  also  get 
some  of  the  business  profits  that  Pinaud 
lavished  upon  wastrels. 


OUR   INDUSTRIAL   'SYSTEM'     207 

I  had  ideas  and  drew  out  several  designs  of 
my  own,  which  I  thought  would  surely  help 
on  the  Art  movement — and  my  own  fortunes. 
But  for  the  moment  I  was  unwilling  to  leave 
such  a  good  job,  and  so  beyond  drawing  out 
these  designs,  and  various  optimistic  estimates 
proving  a  profit  of  something  like  five  pounds 
a  week,  I  left  matters  as  they  were. 

I  consulted  Howton  about  these  things, 
however,  with  the  result  that  we  stood  outside 
the  chapel  one  Sunday  questioning  the  whole 
system  of  industrialism. 

"  System !  "  he  said,  "  there's  no  system 
about  it;  it's  chaos." 

Poor  Howton  !  He  had  suffered  a  "  dirge  " 
upon  the  preceding  Saturday  night.  His 
governor  had  failed  to  raise  money  on  a  cheque 
which  had  been  issued  by  the  buyer  of  his 
furniture,  knowing  full  well  that  the  bank 
would  be  closed  before  he  could  cash  it  that 
week.  Howton  was  very  anxious  about  it,  and 
continued  to  give  vent  to  his  feelings. 

"  It's  not  the  '  bloke's '  fault,  you  know, 
George,"  he  went  on;  "it's  these  big  firms, 


208    ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

they  are  carried  on  by  bluff.  They  have  about 
a  thousand  pounds  in  cash,  and  work  upon 
about  fifty  thousand  pounds'  worth  of  stock. 
Now  what  I  want  to  know  is :  Who  supplies 
the  other  forty-nine  thousand  ?  " 

I  suggested  that  they  got  the  stock  upon 
"appro." 

"  Of  course  they  do,"  he  agreed.  "  Every- 
thing on  approbation;  have  goods  in  the  shop 
for  three  months  :  if  they're  sold  in  that  time — 
well,  they  pay  for  'em;  but  if  they're  not  sold, 
the  maker  is  sent  for  and  told  to  take  them 
away  and  bring  some  new  fashions  in.  D'ye 
see,  they're  trading  on  the  small  master's 
capital,  and  he  takes  all  the  risks;  and  that's 
what  they  call  a  business  system !  If  a  maker 
wants  his  money  on  the  spot — say  a  customer 
has  ordered  a  job — well,  he's  got  to  allow 
twelve  per  cent,  off  if  he  wants  the  money  when 
he  delivers  the  goods." 

"  I  suppose  the  big  firms  might  go  bankrupt 
in  the  three  months,"  I  suggested. 

"Why,  of  course,"  he  replied;  "lots  of 
furnishing  firms  go  broke  before  the  three 


OUR   INDUSTRIAL   'SYSTEM'     209 

months  are  up.  Besides,  why  shouldn't  the 
maker  have  his  money  to  use  himself  ?  " 

"  It's  a  wretched  system,  and  breeds  vice  and 
dishonesty,"  I  said. 

"  System  !  "  he  cried  indignantly,  "  there's  no 
system  in  it,  unless  it's  a  system  of  sharps  and 
flats,  and  we  who  make  the  things  are  the 
flats." 

In  those  days  I  fully  agreed.  I  thought 
everybody  with  money  was  an  ogre,  and  every 
poor  but  honest  workman  a  victim  for  their 
feasts.  I  now  know  more  than  I  did — I  see  the 
whole  of  our  industrial  system  as  a  great 
machine  that  catches  up  all  kinds  and  classes 
of  workers,  and  mangles  their  sense  of  propor- 
tion and  honesty.  It  is  not  for  any  class  to 
blame  another,  all  alike  come  within  its  iron 
cogs,  and  are  thrown  out  like  a  stray  bolt 
whenever  it  slackens  its  infernal  speed. 

Howton  was  speaking  again,  echoing  my 
own  thoughts  as  it  happened.  "  You  know, 
George,"  he  was  saying,  "  I  think  I  could  do 
business  a  good  deal  better  than  my  governor; 

he's  a  flat  if  ever  there  was  one." 
p 


210    ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

I  was  unable  to  reply  to  this  remark,  for 
Simpson  hastened  up  at  this  moment,  and  said 
he  wanted  to  tell  me  something  privately,  I 
said  good-night  to  Howton  and  walked  along 
the  quiet  street  with  Simpson,  who  eagerly 
asked  me  if  I  had  seen  Bessie  Brown  lately. 

"Why?"  I  inquired. 

"  Parted  from  Mumford,"  he  announced, 
and  then  told  me  a  somewhat  curious  story 
quite  in  keeping  with  what  I  knew  of  that 
young  man.  Robert  Mumford  had  succeeded 
in  entering  the  Civil  Service  through  a  com- 
petitive examination;  since  when,  he  had  con- 
tracted a  swelled  head  and  a  remarkable  sense 
of  his  own  importance.  He  had  captured 
Bessie  Brown  some  little  time  before  he 
became  violently  "  converted "  at  the  annual 
mission  in  connection  with  the  chapel.  For- 
going the  ordinary  pleasures  of  life,  such  as  a 
mild  Saturday  evening  concert,  he  gave  his 
nights  up  to  open-air  preaching  or  indoor 
prayer-meetings  with  such  assiduity  that  in  a 
short  time  he  was  looked  upon  as  a  sort  of 
Evan  Roberts,  especially  by  a  small  circle  of 


OUR   INDUSTRIAL   'SYSTEM'     211 

young  ladies  who  half  worshipped  him.  To 
this  circle  he  promulgated  many  new  command- 
ments, and  excommunicated  any  who  dared  to 
disobey. 

"One  afternoon,"  Simpson  continued, 
"Mumford  called  on  Mrs.  Brown,"  Bessie's 
mother,  who  also  attended  the  chapel,  "and 
found  her  in  the  midst  of  the  week's  washing." 

" '  Mrs.  Brown,'  he  said  solemnly,  as  if  he 
were  some  minor  prophet,  '  the  Lord  hath  sent 
me  to  hold  a  prayer-meeting  with  you.' 

: '  Go  on  away,  Robert,'  she  replied,  not  un- 
naturally ;  '  I  can't  stop  my  washing  to  pray 
with  you.' 

'  Then,'  he  said,  with  his  arm  in  the  air, 
'  then,  Mrs.  Brown,  you  are  an  ungodly  woman, 
and  I  cannot  consent  to  walk  out  with  such  a 
woman's  daughter.' 

"  With  that  he  left  the  house.  Later  in  the 
evening  Bessie  asked  him  the  reason  of  his 
coldness,  to  which  he  replied,  '  You  are  not 
good  enough  for  me,  Miss  Brown;  it  is  not 
your  fault,  but  your  mother  is  an  ungodly 
woman,  so  we  must  part." 


p  2 


212    ONE   OF  THE   MULTITUDE 

With  the  parting  we  lost  sight  of  Mumford 
entirely;  he  went  out  of  the  district. 

The  time  was  nearly  midnight  when  I  finally 
left  Simpson  and  went  home  to  the  collaps- 
ible chair-bed  to  prepare  for  another  week's 
work. 


CHAPTER   XXV 

'ON  MY  OWN' 

PINAUD  at  this  time  was  out  for  whole  days 
looking  for  orders.  Business  was  very  slack, 
and  although  the  governor  had  all  sorts  of 
articles  made  up  on  speculation,  trade  refused 
to  flow  in  our  direction. 

The  result  of  this  was  that  I  often  had  to 
lose  a  day's  work,  and  saw  considerably  more 
of  Stanley  Augustus  than  I  liked,  without  the 
restraining  presence  of  Pinaud.  When  that 
gentleman  was  in  the  shop  "Joe"  was  civility 
itself,  but  as  soon  as  the  governor  was  out  of 
the  way  Joe  became  a  petty  tyrant. 

Of  course  I  quickly  resented  his  arrogance, 
but  beyond  one  or  two  slight  quarrels,  nothing 
very  desperate  took  place  until  one  Friday 
afternoon  when  he  worked  me  up  by  petty 
sneers  and  childish  personal  allusions. 

"Acorn!"  he  said  finally;    "h'm,  Acorn! 

Some  acorns  gives  yer  the  stomach-ache." 

213 


214    ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

"  Now,  then,"  I  said,  quite  determined  to  put 
an  end  to  his  domination;  "now,  then,  Mr. 
Stanley  Augustus,  if  you  don't  stop  playing 
about  with  me  and  my  name  I  shall  have  to 
stop  you." 

He  stood  still  for  a  moment  as  if  shocked. 

"  You  do  what  ?  "  he  queried. 

"  Yes,  I'll  do  what,"  I  said  firmly,  "  and  a 
bit  more  than  what,  if  you  like." 

Then  somehow,  before  I  was  quite  aware  of 
it,  we  were  punching  and  fighting  each  other 
round  and  round  the  narrow  bench-rooms. 
Crash !  the  framework  of  a  china-cabinet  I  was 
making  was  knocked  on  to  the  floor,  but  round 
we  followed  each  other,  till  from  sheer  exhaus- 
tion we  stopped  and  noted  the  damage  we  had 
wrought.  Splintered  fragments  of  furniture 
lay  about  the  shop,  the  sight  of  which  caused 
us  to  wonder  what  the  governor  would  say. 

Hastily  gathering  the  pieces,  I  repaired  the 
damage  as  best  I  could,  whilst  Joe  went  out 
to  bathe  his  eye. 

A  few  minutes  later  Mr.  Pinaud  returned, 
and  shortly  afterwards  went  home  for  the 


<ON   MY   OWN'  215 

day  without  apparently  noticing  anything 
amiss. 

I  felt  the  crisis  had  come  at  last.  I  would 
not  work  for  another  man's  enrichment  any 
longer,  I  told  myself,  and  went  home  that 
night  to  consider  my  plans.  As  for  Joe,  I 
knew  I  had  subdued  his  arrogance,  and  I 
despised  him. 

At  about  ten  o'clock  that  night  I  went  out  to 
find  Howton. 

"  Had  a  bust-up,"  I  said  figuratively ;  then 
detailed  the  fight  and  told  him  I  wanted  to 
commence  business  on  my  own  account. 

"  Now,"  I  said,  "  the  reason  I  have  come 
round  is  to  ask  if  you  would  care  to  share  a 
shop  with  me.  Each  of  us  can  have  our 
separate  businesses,  but  it  would  be  nice  to  be 
together." 

"  I  should  like  to,  very  much,"  was  his  reply ; 
"but  I've  only  got  four  pounds  ten  saved  up, 
how  much  have  you  got?" 

"  I've  got  eight  pounds,"  I  said ;  "  but  of 
course  I  am  not  going  to  use  all  that  capital." 

"All  right,"  he  replied  finally,  "  I'll  turn  my 


216    ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

job  up  to-morrow,  and  you'll  do  the  same,  and 
we  take  a  shop  together." 

The  next  day,  Saturday,  I  told  Pinaud  I 
should  be  packing  up  on  Monday  morning. 
He  accepted  my  statement  without  a  word,  but 
after  paying  me  my  wages  he  called  me  aside, 
and  said — 

"  Now  look  here,  George,  my  workmen  are 
my  friends,  and  you  are  my  workman.  I  treat 
you  as  a  friend,  and  I  want  to  know  why  you 
are  leaving.  I  hear  from  the  polishers  that 
you  had  a  fight  with  Joe  yesterday — what  was 
eet  about  ?  " 

I  told  him  of  its  childish  origin,  whereupon 
he  laughed. 

"  You  Engleesh,  you  are  fools,"  he  com- 
mented; "you  no  need  to  leave." 

I  insisted,  I  told  him  I  had  made  arrange- 
ments with  a  friend  to  start  on  my  own  account. 

"All  right,"  he  said,  with  his  customary 
shrug  of  the  shoulders,  "go  eef  you  like;  but 
eef  you  go,  Joe  must  go  too." 

"  No,  no  !  "  I  entreated.  "  Don't  send  him 
away  because  of  that,  you  know  what  a  fool 


'ON   MY   OWN'  217 

he  is,  and  he  hasn't  any  decent  tools  to  go  into 
a  new  shop  with." 

Mr.  Pinaud  nodded  his  head. 

"Yes,  he  is  a  fool;  eef  he  has  no  tools  eet 
is  his  own  fault.  Eef  you  go,  he  must  go." 

The  governor  communicated  this  decision 
to  Joe,  who  nearly  wept  in  consequence.  "  Do 
stop,"  he  urged  lugubriously ;  "  do  stop  !  " 

"  Can't,"  I  replied,  "  I've  made  arrange- 
ments with  a  pal;  I'm  very,  very  sorry,  but  I 
can't  let  him  in,"  meaning  that  I  couldn't 
deceive  Howton  for  his  sake. 

I  was  greatly  worried  about  Joe's  dismissal. 
I  felt  I  was  dragging  him  down,  as  indeed  I 
was;  but  I  had  to  choose  between  Howton, 
who  had  left  his  job,  and  Augustus,  who  was 
certainly  no  friend  of  mine. 

I  went  to  the  shop  early  on  Monday  morn- 
ing to  get  my  tools  and  to  plead  with  Pinaud 
to  retain  Augustus.  But  it  was  unavailing. 

"  You  must  both  go !  "  he  reiterated. 

Pinaud  went  himself — a  fortnight  later,  some 
said  abroad,  leaving  debts  of  some  hundreds 
of  pounds  behind  him.  He  had  been  plucked 


218    ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

at     the     "  Duck     and     Goslings "     of — other 
people's  feathers ! 

Howton  and  I  soon  got  to  work.  We  rented 
a  shop  for  four  shillings  a  week  from  a  fair- 
haired  man  who  was  quite  deaf  and  very  nearly 
drunk. 

I  insisted  on  a  receipt  for  the  initial  deposit, 
also  the  key,  whereupon  we  entered  on  our  new 
possession  and  bethought  ourselves  of  the  next 
step.  That  was  to  get  two  second-hand 
benches.  Although  we  tramped  about  for 
hours  from  one  ironmonger's  shop  to  another 
we  could  see  no  announcement  of  benches  for 
sale,  so  at  last,  thinking  the  matter  over,  we 
decided  to  make  them  for  ourselves. 

We  went  out  and  bought  some  beech,  and 
spent  our  first  day  in  most  arduous  toil, 
fashioning  the  wood  to  our  requirements. 

We  were  full  of  our  prospects,  and  whilst 
working  harder  than  we  had  ever  worked 
before,  cheered  each  other  with  brave  words, 
although  in  our  hearts  we  felt  somewhat 
anxious  about  the  success  of  our  new  venture. 


'ON   MY   OWN'  219 

I  told  my  people  of  my  ambitions,  over 
which  I  grew  quite  enthusiastic;  indeed,  I 
openly  said  I  couldn't  understand  why  my 
father  had  never  attempted  the  same  experi- 
ment. 

My  parents  simply  ridiculed  my  notions, 
and  told  me  that  my  ambitions  would  be  my 
ruin,  and  that  eventually  I  should  be  thankful 
if  I  managed  to  keep  in  as  good  a  social  and 
industrial  position  as  they  were  in  themselves. 

Within  a  few  days  I  made  some  articles  of 
furniture,  and  packing  these  carefully  on  a 
barrow,  got  between  the  handle  shafts  and 
went  out  on  the  "  buzz." 

I  stopped  before  a  large  wholesale  furniture 
house  in  Curtain  Road.  After  loosening  the 
ropes  which  held  my  precious  freight,  I  lifted 
an  overmantel  and  placed  it  in  a  prominent 
position  against  the  doorway. 

"  Good-morning,  sir,"  I  said  to  the  "  buyer  " 
upon  entering  the  shop. 

"Well?  "he  answered. 

"  I've  got  a  novelty  in  overmantels  outside," 
I  began. 


220    ONE   OF  THE   MULTITUDE 

"  A  novelty,"  he  responded ;  "  let's  see  it." 

He  evidently  liked  my  design.  He  pos- 
sessed very  good  taste,  I  thought,  most  in- 
telligent man;  here  was  my  fortune  made 
immediately. 

"  H'm !  "  he  said,  after  inspecting  the  over- 
mantel at  a  distance,  and  then  closely.  "  How 
much?" 

He  was  now  standing  at  a  little  distance, 
allowing  the  beauty  of  my  handiwork  to  filter 
into  his  soul,  as  I  thought,  so  I  did  not  disturb 
his  enraptured  reverie. 

"  How  much  ? "  he  again  inquired,  with  a 
touch  of  irritation  in  his  voice. 

"  Fifteen  shillings  each,"  I  murmured. 

"How  much?"  he  repeated,  as  if  surprised. 

"  Fifteen  shillings  each,"  I  said  again. 

He   stood   as   if   speechless   for    a   minute. 
'  Take  'em  away,"  he  then  said,  with  a  wave 
of  the  hand  to  indicate  finality.     "  Tak^e  'em 
away !  " 

I  packed  up  the  overmantel  at  once,  feeling 
rather  bitter  towards  this  mercenary  person, 
and  had  pushed  my  barrow  a  few  yards  from 


'ON   MY   OWN'  221 

the  shop,  when  he  shouted  out  for  me  to 
return. 

"Well,  will  you  have  'em?"  I  inquired 
breathlessly. 

"  Yes,  I  will,"  he  said,  "  at  eight  shillings  a 
time." 

For  answer  I  returned  to  my  barrow  shafts, 
and  resumed  my  "  buzzing." 


CHAPTER    XXVI 

'  BUZZING ' 

ALTOGETHER  I  visited  about  a  dozen  of  the 
principal  shops.  At  some  I  was  merely  told 
to  "  Go  away,"  the  advice  being  attended  by  a 
gesture  indicating  that  they  were  already  over- 
stocked with  goods.  At  other  shops  my  work 
was  criticized,  and  my  business-card  retained, 
but  that  was  all. 

At  one  of  these  last  places  I  was  recognized 
by  the  "  buyer  "  as  an  employee  of  Pinaud's. 
He  had  called  in  at  Pinaud's  shop  once  or 
twice,  and  had  seen  me  at  work. 

"Started  on  your  own?"  he  inquired. 
'  Yes,"  I  replied.     "  Can  I  do  business  with 
you?" 

"  Nothing  doing,"  he  said ;  then  added, 
indicating  my  barrow-load,  "not  in  our  line. 
How  much?" 

"Fourteen  shillings,"  I  replied. 


222 


«  BUZZING  '  223 

"Want  something  for  your  work,"  was  his 
response. 

"  Well,"  I  retorted,  "  I'm  selling  furniture — 
or  trying  to — not  firewood." 

I  could  not  sell  him  anything,  so  I  just  left 
my  card  with  him,  and  pushed  my  barrow 
along  once  more,  until  at  last  I  was  sick  and 
tired  of  "  buzzing." 

With  my  boots  and  trousers  splashed  with 
hardening  mud,  with  my  mind  in  some  such 
condition,  for  each  refusal  stuck  like  a  foul 
blot  upon  my  bright  hopes,  and  with  my  body 
tired  out  by  five  hours  of  this  unproductive 
buzzing,  I  suddenly  lost  heart,  and  decided  to 
give  in  for  the  day,  and  go  back  to  shop. 

This  was  being  "on  my  own,"  I  bitterly 
thought;  this  was  independence,  begging  of 
people  to  buy  my  handiwork ;  this  was  freedom 
— to  starve. 

I  laughed  outright,  though  grimly  enough, 
when  I  thought  of  that  beautiful  metaphori- 
cal expression — "buzzing,"  the  idea  of  a  bee 
busily  distilling  honey  from  the  beautiful 
flowers  which  it  visited  one  after  the  other. 


224    ONE   OF  THE   MULTITUDE 

The  sight  of  a  Jew  named  Wartski  standing 
before  his  shop  prompted  me  to  make  a  last 
effort  to  clear  my  overmantels. 

"  Good-evening,  sir !  "  I  said  deferentially. 

Being  a  Jew  he  was  not  accustomed  to  much 
civility  from  Gentiles  in  that  quarter,  so  my 
salute  at  once  caused  him  to  regard  me  with 
favour. 

"Veil,"  he  said,  "vat  you  got,  eh?" 

"  Some  very  nice  overmantels,"  I  replied. 
"  Good  workmanship,  good  design,  and  of 
solid  wood,  just  the  things  for  your  class 
of  trade." 

Wartski  beamed  upon  me,  for  he  was  re- 
nowned in  the  trade  as  a  cheap,  sweating  manu- 
facturer of  shoddy  furniture.  He  bade  me 
show  him  one — which  I  did  very  willingly,  one 
may  be  sure,  leaning  it  against  his  door-post 
and  calling  his  attention  to  the  design. 

"Ja,  all  right,"  he  agreed;  "vere  you  got 
design  from,  eh'  ?  " 

"  It's  my  own  design,"  I  insisted. 

"Oh  ja,  I  seen  it  before;  but  'ow  mooch  for 
dem?" 


«  BUZZING  '  225 

"  Twelve  shillings  each,"  I  said  in  despair. 

"  Vat,  tvelf  shilling  ?  Now  joost  listen  to  me." 

I  listened,  whilst  he  wagged  his  fat  fore- 
finger, and  reasoned  thus,  "  De  vood  cost  so 
mooch,  and  de  vorkmanship  cost  so  mooch, 
and  de  rent  and  de  oder  tings  cost  so  mooch; 
I  vil  gif  you  ten  shilling  each  for  dem." 
[Nothing  for  design  or  profit.] 

I  had  nine  overmantels  upon  my  barrow. 
Here  was  an  offer  of  four  pounds  ten  in  cash. 
A  struggle  between  principle  and  expediency 
took  place  within  me.  I  accepted  his  offer. 

"All  right,"  I  agreed,  "they're  yours;  only 
mind,  it's  my  design,  and  if  you  want  any  more 
like  that  you  must  come  to  me  and  I'll  make 
them." 

"Of  course,"  he  replied,  bidding  me  good- 
night, as  I  trudged  away  with  the  money,  the 
empty  barrow  and  a  lightened  heart.  Four 
pounds  ten !  They  had  cost  me  three  pounds 
five  to  get  up  without  reckoning  my  labour, 
which  awarded  me  considerably  less  remunera- 
tion than  I  had  received  from  Pinaud. 

"Got  rid  of  'em,  then,"  remarked  Howton, 


as  I  entered  the  shop  with  the  empty  wrappers 
in  my  arms.  "  Didn't  have  much  trouble,  I 
suppose  ? " 

"  Didn't  I !  "  I  replied ;  "  nobody  seems  to 
want  to  buy  anything.  I  was  giving  it  up  once 
or  twice." 

"  Oh !  you  couldn't  have  had  much  trouble," 
he  persisted ;  "  you  went  out  at  twelve  o'clock, 
and  it's  only  seven  now." 

"  Only  seven  !  "  I  retorted  irritably.  "  But 
there !  I  don't  want  to  argue  with  you  as  to 
whether  they  were  easy  to  sell  or  not.  You'll 
find  out  for  yourself  when  you  take  your  work 
out  on  the  buzz.  I'm  simply  famished,  so  I'm 
going  home.  Good-night." 

My  greeting  upon  getting  home  was, 
"  Hullo  !  you're  in  a  fine  mess ;  been  standing 
in  a  pool  of  mud?  " 

"  No,  but  I've  been  on  the  buzz,"  I  replied, 
and  waited  for  the  inquiry  as  to  how  I  got 
on.  Nobody  seemed  to  evince  the  slightest 
curiosity,  so  I  drew  into  my  shell  for  the  rest 
of  the  evening,  irritated  with  everything  and 
everybody. 


'  BUZZING '  227 

The  greatest  offence  I  urge  against  my 
parents  is  that  they  never  supported  me  by 
their  interest,  or  their  enthusiasm,  in  anything 
I  undertook.  In  this  business  venture  I  had 
nobody  to  whom  I  could  confide  all  my  hopes 
and  fears.  Howton,  I  found,  was  absolutely 
void  of  any  sense  of  proportion,  and  quite 
failed  to  see  a  problem  in  its  relation  to  other 
matters,  although  in  character  and  integrity  he 
was  the  soul  of  manliness  and  high  principles. 
My  only  confidant  was  Harold  Vange,  who 
was  not  the  right  person  because  the  whole  of 
my  business  affairs  were  foreign  to  his  nature 
and  experience.  He  heard  me,  although  in  an 
abstracted  manner,  only  remarking  that  if  I 
wanted  any  money  he  would  try  to  lend  it  to  me. 

I  was  grateful  for  the  proffered  assistance, 
and  assured  him  that  I  had  no  intention  or  need 
of  availing  myself  of  his  offer. 

Weeks  dragged  along.  Howton  finished  his 
work  and  went  out  "buzzing"  day  after  day, 
but  without  success. 

I  made  all  kinds  of  furniture,  but  failed  to 

sell  it. 
Q  2 


228    ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

My  life  became  almost  unbearable.  A 
youth  in  his  teens  always  magnifies  his  busi- 
ness anxieties,  if  he  has  any.  A  thousand  petty 
troubles  combined  to  make  my  head  go  cold, 
to  make  my  shoulders  stoop  as  if  bent  under 
some  heavy  burden. 

"  Life's  a  frost,"  was  all  that  Howton  and  I 
could  say  to  each  other,  as  we  sat  on  our 
benches  moodily  staring  at  each  other  over  the 
stack  of  unsaleable  furniture  that  was  piled  up 
in  the  middle  of  the  shop. 

Poor  Howton !  I  must  not  say  too  much  of 
his  trials  and  troubles,  for  he  is,  and  was,  very 
reticent  about  them  himself;  but  I  know  that 
his  father  and  mother  largely  depended  upon 
him,  and  that  he  half  starved  himself  for  their 
maintenance  at  this  period.  Half  a  kipper  and 
a  slice  of  bread  is  not  much  for  a  man's  prin- 
cipal meal,  upon  which  to  base  a  hard  day's 
work,  yet  that  was  what  Howton  often  had  for 
dinner. 

At  last  the  tide  of  events  came  to  their  low- 
est ebb.  I  had  twopence  in  my  possession, 
whilst  Howton  was  penniless,  and  moreover 


'  BUZZING  '  229 

owed  me  fourpence.  His  oil-lamp  flickered 
and  jumped,  and  finally  ceased  to  show  a  light, 
for  lack  of  oil. 

"  Lend  us  a  penny  for  oil,"  he  demanded 
gruffly. 

"  No,"  I  said.  "  It  is  no  good  me  parting 
with  the  last  coppers  I've  got.  Let's  go 
home." 

I  tossed  about  in  bed  that  night  reviewing 
the  situation,  whereupon  the  bed  collapsed.  I 
could  see  no  fun  in  getting  to  misery  early  the 
next  morning,  so  I  lay  rather  later  than  usual 
and  arrived  at  the  shop  to  find  Howton  hard  at 
work. 

"  Post-card  for  you,"  he  said ;  "  means 
orders,  I  expect." 

I  eagerly  scanned  the  post-card.  It  was 
from  Dolphin  &  Co.,  requesting  me  to  call. 
The  man  I  had  to  see  was  the  "  buyer  "  that  had 
recognized  me  as  one  of  Pinaud's  employees. 

"  Er — I  sent  for  you,  Acorn,"  he  began,  as 
soon  as  he  saw  me — "  I  sent  for  you  to  know  if 
you  could  supply  us  with  some  of  Pinaud's 
kind  of  furniture?" 


230    ONE   OF  THE   MULTITUDE 

"  No,"  I  replied ;  "  I  cannot  consent  to  rob 
another  man  of  his  designs.  I'll  make  you 
some  of  my  own  if  you  like,  but  not  Pinaud's." 

"But  where  is  Pinaud?"  he  inquired. 

"  At  his  old  shop,  I  suppose,"  I  replied. 

"No,  but  he  isn't,"  corrected  the  "buyer." 
"  Nobody  knows  where  he's  got  to.  Some  say 
he's  gone  abroad.  You're  not  'doing  him  any 
harm  by  making  his  stuff." 

I  quite  saw  that  his  going  away  was  a  great 
stroke  of  luck  for  me.  I  thereupon  secured  a 
five-pound  order  from  the  "  buyer."  I  only  pos- 
sessed three-halfpence  by  now,  so  it  was  neces- 
sary to  accept  the  financial  assistance  so  kindly 
offered  by  Vange  to  be  able  to  make  a  start. 

Strangely  enough  the  very  next  day  How- 
ton's  cloud  lifted  also.  A  certain  oily-tongued 
individual  with  a  face  as  impassive  as  the 
Sphinx,  called  to  see  him. 

"  Mr.  Howton,  I  believe  ?  "  he  said  to  me. 

I  disliked  this  person  intuitively.     "  Made  a 
mistake,"  I  said.     "There's  Mr.  Howton,"- 
who  then  came  forward  flushing  with  pleasure 
at  the  prospect  of  a  customer.    They  went  out 


'  BUZZING '  231 

together  for  an  hour  or  so,  whilst  I  steadily 
worked  away  at  my  orders,  and  rejoiced  to 
think  that  at  last  we  were  finding  a  footing. 
Pinaud  gone  abroad  !  I  was  sorry  for  that,  but 
I  could  quite  see  that  it  gave  me  a  better  chance 
of  succeeding  in  business;  and  now  that  How- 
ton  had  "  struck  a  vein,"  we  could  keep  the  shop 
on  together,  and  from  this  on  we  could  expect 
to  live  prosperous,  tranquil  lives. 

Howton  burst  into  the  shop,  dancing  and 
chuckling  with  glee.  "  Got  a  big  order  ? "  I 
inquired. 

"Finest  thing  I've  ever  heard  of,"  he  said; 
"  and  it's  not  going  to  finish  in  a  week  or  a 
month  or  a  year;  in  fact,  I  reckon  I've  got 
something  that'll  keep  me  going  for  years, — 
soon  pay  you  back  your  money  now,  and  have  a 
bit  by  me  too !  The  idea  is  this,"  he  con- 
tinued, "the  snobs  who  live  in  these  little 
jerry-built  houses  in  the  suburbs  are  very  fond 
of  giving  highfalutin  names  such  as  c  Honey- 
suckle Grange '  or  '  Rosebower  Lodge '  to 
their  places.  Well,  a  syndicate's  been  formed 
with  a  large  staff  of  travellers  to  encourage  that 


232    ONE   OF  THE   MULTITUDE 

sort  of  thing,  and  to  sell  to  these  people  nicely 
decorated  metal  name-plates.  My  job  is  to 
supply  the  wooden  panel  that  they  pin  the 
plate  itself  on  to.  And  as  they  reckon  that 
every  snob  in  the  United  Kingdom  is  going  to 
buy  one,  I'm  likely  to  have  work  for  life ! 
Some  money  in  that  idea,  you  know.  And  they 
expect  people  will  want  to  change  the  name  of 
their  places  every  twelvemonth  or  so,  which 
will  mean  more  work  when  the  thing  is  in  full 
swing ;  see  ?  " 

I  said,  that  like  all  really  great  ideas,  it  was 
very  simple,  and  congratulated  him  upon  his 
turn  of  luck. 

'  Yes,"  he  continued  to  say,  "  I'm  to  make  a 
gross  now,  and  two  gross  and  a  half  when  they 
are  finished ;  terms :  net  cash  with  delivery. 

Borrowed  a  bit  of  money  from  Mr.  T ,  and 

I  start  making  my  fortune  first  thing  after 
dinner." 

I  did  not  care  to  damp  his  ardour  by  casting 
doubts  upon  the  character  of  Mr.  Sphinxface. 
I  inquired,  however,  "  What  sort  of  man  is  he  ?  " 

"  Well,  rather  quiet  and  watchful,  you  know, 


«  BUZZING '  233 

George ;  but  absolutely  straight,  I  should  say — 
in  fact,  there's  no  doubt  about  it." 

I  had  my  doubts;  but  then,  I  thought,  I  am 
a  suspecting  sort  of  person,  so  perhaps  I  am 
mistaken,  and  Howton  right  in  his  estimate. 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

AT   LOW    EBB 

MY  five-pound  order  was  duly  executed  and 
taken  home.  I  paid  Vange  back  his  money, 
and  hoped  for  more  orders. 

I  called  upon  Dolphin  &  Co.  many  times 
in  the  following  week,  but  my  efforts  to  get 
a  quiet  talk  with  the  "  buyer "  were  about  as 
successful  as  if  a  tramp  endeavoured  to  inter- 
view the  King. 

I  wasted  the  best  part  of  a  week  in  trying 
to  get  another  order  from  him;  but  all  in  vain, 
notwithstanding  the  fact  that  he  had  sent  me 
another  post-card  asking  me  to  call  at  my 
earliest  convenience.  On  some  occasions  six 
or  seven  of  us  would  be  standing  in  a  row  for 
a  couple  of  hours  at  a  stretch,  waiting  for  his 
majesty — the  "buyer." 

'  Takes  the  gilt  off  the  ginger-bread,"  said 
an  elderly  man  to  me,  whereupon  I  sighed,  and 

"  wished  to  be  blowed  if  it  didn't." 

234 


AT    LOW    EBB  235 

Mr.  Westcott,  the  "  buyer,"  eventually  spoke 
to  me,  shaking  his  head  vigorously  the  while, 
at  my  request  for  more  orders. 

"  No,  no  !  "  he  said ;  "  I  don't  want  any- 
thing just  now,  but  I'm  getting  out  my  Autumn 
Catalogue,  and  I  want  you  to  bring  up  some 
new  designs  to  put  into  it." 

I  worried  and  puzzled  my  brains  to  design 
something  original,  but  beyond  two  or  three 
new  ideas  I  was  unsuccessful.  However,  I  pre- 
sented a  dozen  designs  to  him  a  few  days 
later,  quite  expecting  an  order  to  accompany 
their  acceptance. 

"Very  well,  Acorn,"  Mr.  Westcott  said; 
"leave  them  with  me,  will  you?  I'll  let  you 
know  when  I  want  anything." 

Days  passed  without  a  sign  of  orders.  I 
tried  "buzzing"  some  of  my  other  furniture, 
but  in  vain.  I  was  again  reduced  to  twopence. 

"  Down  again,"  I  wrote  in  a  diary  at  that 
period;  "down  again  to  twopence,  something 
is  sure  to  happen  for  the  good  now." 

Howton  had  been  working  like  mad  to 
finish  his  name-plate  panels,  had  polished  them 


236    ONE   OF  THE   MULTITUDE 

himself,  and  was  now  tying  a  gross  of  them 
within  a  large  sheet,  preparatory  to  taking 
"home." 

"  My  turn  now,"  he  remarked,  as  he  penned 
his  account  with  the  Syndicate.  "  It's  about 
time  I  pulled  off  something;  pay  you  pres- 
ently." Then,  sticking  the  necessary  penny 
stamp  where  he  should  later  sign  for  the 
receipt  of  his  money,  he  put  his  arm  through 
the  bundle,  and  was  gone. 

I  also  went  out,  and  fortunately  secured  an 
order  from  Westcott  which  ensured  wages  to 
the  extent  of  eighteen  shillings.  Howton  was 
surprised  to  see  me  working  when  he  returned. 

"Got  any  money?"  he  inquired. 

"  Borrowed  a  pound  from  Harold  Vange,"  I 
replied.  "  Why,  do  you  want  change  ?  " 

"  Oh  no  !  "  he  said  airily.  "  Only  the  Syn- 
dicate prefers  to  pay  for  the  whole  three  gross 
and  half  when  completed.  Everything's  above- 
board,  quite  square  and  all  that,  only  I'm  rather 
short  of  cash,  and  thought " 

'  That  I  could  lend  you  some?  "  I  continued, 
"  I  can't.  I  have  got  very  little  money,  and 


AT   LOW   EBB  237 

what  I  have  has  been  borrowed;  besides,  why 
didn't  you  insist  upon  cash  with  delivery,  as 
you  had  arranged  ?  " 

"  Well,  as  he  said,  it  was  so  silly  to  bring  a 
separate  account  for  small  quantities  when  we 
were  doing  the  thing  on  such  a  large  scale. 
So  I  left  it  open  until  next  week  when  I  should 
take  the  rest  home." 

"  It  was  very  foolish  of  you,"  I  retorted. 

"  Oh  no,  it  wasn't,"  he  replied.  "  Syndicate's 
as  safe  as  the  Bank  of  England ;  but  there !  I 
can  easily  borrow  money  upon  such  security, 
so  you  needn't  worry;  keep  your  mouldy 
money." 

In  due  time  I  finished  my  little  order  and 
took  them  "home,"  and  wasted  a  great  deal 
more  time  waiting  for  more  work  and  inquir- 
ing about  the  designs,  but  to  no  purpose. 
Dolphin  &  Co.  seemed  to  have  three  stock 
reasons  for  delay :  either  they  were  stock- 
taking, preparing  their  new  catalogue,  or  else 
Mr.  Westcott  was  indisposed. 

Howton  worked  early  and  late  until  at  last 


238    ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

he  finished  all  the  name-plate  panels  he  had  on 
order. 

"  Safe  as  the  Bank  of  England,  my  boy,"  he 
roundly  declared  ;  "  you're  suspicious  of  'em, 
are  you  ?  All  right,  you  wait  and  see  me  come 
back  with  my  money,  and  a  big  order  with  it." 

Again  he  was  deceived,  and  dismissed  with- 
out either.  Mr.  Sphinxface  had  told  him 
some  plausible  tale  about  it  being  a  Syndicate, 
and  therefore  that  all  cheques  must  be  signed 
by  the  other  partners  as  well  as  himself,  their 
banking  account  being  deposited  under  several 
names.  He  had  promised  to  send  the  cheque 
along  to  Howton  the  moment  he  got  it  properly 
signed. 

After  this  many  idle  days  came  and  went. 
We  were  now  in  serious  straits — without 
capital,  without  hope  (at  least  I  was  without 
hope,  Howton  still  believed  in  the  absolute 
honesty  of  the  Syndicate),  and  to  crown  all  we 
both  possessed  a  large  amount  of  unsaleable 
furniture,  packed  up  in  the  middle  of  the  small 
shop,  hindering  our  progress  in  every  way. 

The   uncertainty   and   hopelessness   of   our 


AT   LOW   EBB  239 

position  so  pressed  upon  me  that  at  last  I  felt 
I  could  not  work.  I  could  not  hope  to  sell  my 
goods,  and  what  was  the  use  of  making  more 
stock  ? 

I  began  sitting  out  in  the  little  yard  attached 
to  the  shop,  thankful  for  the  light  of  the  sun 
and  a  glimpse  of  the  blue  sky;  the  time  was 
August,  late  in  the  month.  I  had  been  cheated 
by  circumstance  of  a  week's  holiday,  planned 
at  the  very  beginning  of  the  year,  before  ever 
I  thought  of  starting  "  on  my  own." 

Sometimes  as  I  sat  out  in  that  yard  I  penned 
the  thoughts  uppermost  in  my  mind  at  the 
time  in  the  diary  which  I  kept  in  a  very  casual 
sort  of  way.  I  give  an  extract — 

"  Aug.  22,  19 — .  I  have  been  unwell,  and  am 
now  in  that  state  that  I  cannot  work.  What,  I 
think,  am  I  alive  for  ?  I  know,  if  I  go  out  some- 
where and  enjoy  myself  I  shall  be  reproached 
by  everybody  as  being  lazy.  Visions  of  Hamp- 
stead  or  Victoria  Park  flit  across  my  tired 
vision,  albeit  I  am  jaded  and  my  head  aches; 
I  think  of  Sartor  Resartus,  where  Diogenes 


240    ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

Teufelsdrockh  whispers  to  himself,  '  What !  is 
this  the  only  way  to  get  the  crust  and  couch 
that  constitute  my  needs  ? '  Arise,  then,  seek 
ye  another  means  of  getting  your  hunger  and 
thirst  satisfied  than  by  assiduously  waiting  on 
heads  of  furnishing  firms  for  the  crumbs  they 
deign  to  scatter. 

"  I  am  a-weary,  and  have  been.  It  may  be 
because  of  health  (or  lack  of  it),  but  this  last 
month  I  have  been  grumpish  to  everybody. 

"  I  suppose  it  will  be  all  right  some  day, 
else  life  were  not  worth  living." 


CHAPTER     XXVIII 

THE    DWELLERS    BELOW 

WE  could  not  keep  on  the  shop  without  some 
income  or  other,  so  we  decided  to  close,  and 
to  get  into  other  people's  employment  as  soon 
as  the  opportunity  appeared. 

Trade  seemed  to  be  very  quiet  all  round, 
and  Howton  and  I  had  grave  doubts  as  to 
whether  we  should  find  our  feet  very  quickly. 

"  Still,"  was  Howton's  comment,  "  still,  it 
won't  be  long  before  the  Syndicate  parts  up 
with  the  cash  they  owe  me;  a  week  or  so,  I 
suppose,  and  then  I  can  start  again,  perhaps 
employ  a  big  staff  making  name-plate  panels; 
might  be  able  to  give  you  a  job." 

I  owed  two  pounds  to  Vange,  and  had  about 
five  shillings  in  hand  with  which  I  intended 
paying  out  various  petty  credit  accounts  before 
closing  down. 

My   fret-cutter  and   moulder  was  a  young 
R  241 


242    ONE   OF   THE    MULTITUDE 

man  to  whom  I  explained  my  position  and  paid 
my  account. 

He  had  been  interested  in  our  venture,  his 
own  business  was  a  kind  of  family  heirloom 
handed  down  to  him  by  his  father,  who  had 
retired.  "What  sort  of  furniture?"  he  in- 
quired, as  I  mentioned  my  unsaleable  stock. 

I  described  the  furniture  to  him. 

"All  right,"  he  said;  "I'll  come  across  and 
have  a  look  at  it.  I'm  thinking  of  getting 
married  shortly,  and  perhaps  some  of  your 
stuff  might  suit  me." 

He  came  across  and  bought  quite  a  third  of 
my  stock,  for  which  he  paid  ready  money. 

As  soon  as  my  customer  left  the  shop  How- 
ton  left  his  bench,  against  which  he  had  been 
leaning  with  arms  folded  and  eyes  downcast, 
and  came  over  to  me. 

"Game  to  stop  on  another  week?"  he 
inquired  rather  brusquely. 

"  Do  you  think  it  any  good  ? "  I  inquired  in 
return. 

"Why,  don't  you?"  he  continued. 

"Well,  no!  I  don't,"  I  said;   "we're  drag- 


THE   DWELLERS    BELOW      243 

ging  on  and  dragging  on,  and  what  for?  We 
shall  have  to  shut  up  in  the  end,  so  why  not 
shut  up  now  without  making  matters  worse  ? " 

"  All  very  well  for  you,"  he  replied ;  "  but 
you  forget  I've  got  the  Syndicate  to  look 
forward  to." 

After  all,  I  thought,  I  led  him  to  start  "on 
his  own,"  so  I  should  be  acting  rather  shabbily 
if  by  shutting  up  the  shop  I  spoiled  his 
prospects. 

I  paid  the  rent  in  full  the  following  Mon- 
day morning  without  asking  my  companion 
for  his  share,  and  afterwards  lent  him  a  few 
shillings. 

The  week  passed  uneventfully.  I  again 
went  out  "  buzzing,"  but  without  success. 

"  I  won't  knock  my  head  against  a  brick  wall 
any  longer,"  I  told  Howton  in  my  bitterness  of 
feeling ;  "  I'm  going  to  turn  it  up." 

We  decided  to  shut  up  shop. 

It  would  weary  the  reader  to  detail  the 
packing  away  of  our  benches,  and  our  ambi- 
tions; to  tell  of  our  quest  for  work  would 
be  a  mere  repetition  of  a  previous  chapter. 


R   2 


244    ONE    OF    THE    MULTITUDE 

Suffice  it  to  say  that  I  got  work  two  days  after  I 
first  sought  it,  whilst  Howton  was  "  out "  some 
weeks. 

During  this  unprofitable  period  he  repeatedly 
visited  the  offices  of  the  Syndicate,  and  finally 
succeeded  in  obtaining  the  promised  cheque 
post-dated  for  a  fortnight. 

He  was  very  proud  of  that  cheque,  flaunted 
it  before  me,  scoffed  at  my  suspicions,  and,  I 
believe,  borrowed  a  little  money  on  the  strength 
of  it.  When  the  fortnight  elapsed  he  hastened 
to  the  bank,  and  presented  the  cheque  for 
payment,  only  to  have  it  returned  across  the 
counter — dishonoured. 

Poor  Howton !  If  ever  a  person  was  un- 
fortunate, it  was  he.  I  have  often  wondered  if 
circumstances  trouble  us  or  whether  we  are 
responsible  for  troubled  circumstances.  Was 
Howton  the  victim  of  a  blind  fate,  as  he  sup- 
posed, or  was  he  the  victim  of  himself  ? 

I  paid  Vange  back  his  money  with  heartfelt 
thanks.  My  opinions  regarding  him  were 
rapidly  changing.  Much  of  the  personal  dis- 
taste I  had  experienced  was  disappearing.  My 


conceptions  were  broadening,  and  he  was 
being  fashioned  by  the  hand  of  Time  into  a 
being  I  could  love.  His  mind,  however,  had 
become  attached  to  what  he  was  pleased  to 
call  "advanced  thought"  in  ethics,  theology 
and  politics.  By  being  over-zealous  in  his 
desire  to  convert  me  into  an  unthinking  dis- 
ciple of  these  tenets,  he  really  severed  our 
active  friendship.  Unfortunately,  too,  by  this 
time  he  had  given  up  all  idea  of  winning  my 
affection.  In  such  circumstances  it  is  not  sur- 
prising that  as  I  advanced,  he  receded. 

We  drifted. 

If  all  the  cares  of  the  world  had  been  upon 
my  mind  during  my  brief  term  of  mastership 
I  do  not  believe  I  should  have  looked  or  felt 
more  haggard  and  careworn  than  I  then  did. 
The  act  of  throwing  over  the  whole  business 
and  going  back  to  work  for  another  man 
brought  a  real  lightening  of  heart  and  mind. 
I  often  laugh  quietly  to  myself  when  I  remem- 
ber a  very  insulting  young  man  who  had  ma'de 
a  practice  of  dropping  in  upon  Howton  and 
myself  when  we  were  hard  at  work,  and 


246    ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

making  endless  inquiries  about  things  in  general 
and  the  prices  of  our  furniture  in  particular. 

This  supercilious  person  happened  to  "  drop 
in  "  just  as  we  were  loading  our  barrows  with 
our  effects. 

"  Hullo  !  "  he  inquired  sneeringly,  "  what's 
up?" 

"  Nothing  much,"  I  replied.  "  Only  we  are 
moving  into  larger  premises"  (collapse  of 
sneering  young  man).  So  we  were,  but  we 
omitted  to  say  they  were  other  people's  work- 
shops we  were  going  into. 

My  new  employers  were  not  remarkable  in 
any  way  except  nominally,  rejoicing  as  they 
did  in  the  names  of  Wise  &  Sageman.  They 
were  rather  pushing  young  men,  but  otherwise 
mediocrities,  as  one  might  expect.  Their  line 
of  business  was  joinery,  of  which  I  was  glad 
to  gain  some  experience,  although  I  had  to 
take  only  fivepence  an  hour  in  return  for  hard, 
unremitting  toil. 

At  this  time  the  lower  part  of  the  house  in 
which  my  parents  lived  was  let  out  to  some 


THE   DWELLERS   BELOW      247 

Russian  Jews.  I  never  knew  exactly  how 
many,  but  I  know  there  were  husband  and 
wife,  three  of  her  sisters,  and  several  young 
men  lodgers,  all  in  three  rooms.  Very  often 
as  I  entered  the  street  door  I  found  myself 
colliding  with  some  foreign  stranger  or  another 
— one  of  the  lodgers,  I  supposed. 

Upon  certain  festivals  the  lower  part  of  the 
premises  would  be  overrun  by  a  motley  crowd 
of  aliens,  all  of  whom  seemed  to  be  talking  at 
once.  Candles  were  lighted  and  placed  in  the 
window,  the  rattle  of  coins,  and  eager  voices 
in  altercation  over  stakes  were  to  be  heard, 
whilst  through  their  uncovered  window  could 
be  discerned  from  the  yard  the  gamblers  them- 
selves (some  with  venerable  beards)  ben'ding 
over  the  cards,  the  lust  for  money  gleaming  in 
every  eye.  I  have  a  feeling  of  compassion  for 
refugees,  but  I  must  confess  my  compassion 
becomes  something  like  an  abstract  idea  before 
the  crude  ferocity  and  lusts  such  aliens  exhibit. 
We  had  no  dealings  whatever  with  these 
people,  although  we  could  not  ignore  their 
presence  altogether,  nor  their  filthy  manner  of 


248    ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

expectorating.  Moreover,  they  were  so  care- 
less that  a  feeling  of  insecurity  was  quickly 
engendered.  Their  chief  folly  was  in  handling 
fire.  They  would  throw  lighted  cigarette  ends 
anywhere  upon  the  floors  or  stairs,  to  be  dis- 
covered and  put  out  by  one  of  us.  Naturally 
our  fear  of  fire  was  very  great  indeed.  We 
lived  at  the  top  of  a  house  of  which  the  out- 
side walls  only  were  of  bricks,  the  room  parti- 
tions being  entirely  of  match-boarding.  If  a 
fire  were  to  occur  we  should  be  caught  like 
rats  in  a  trap. 

At  this  time,  too,  I  became  aware  of  other 
lodgers  in  the  house. 

Below  the  ordinary  level  of  the  street  were 
two  rooms,  to  which  daylight  seemed  unable  to 
penetrate  through  the  iron  gratings  let  into 
the  street  pavement  for  that  purpose. 

I  had  never  really  given  the  rooms  a  thought 
—everything  was  in  such  utter  darkness  down 
there,  I  had  taken  it  for  granted  that  none  but 
rats  could  exist  in  such  a  place. 

Early  one  morning  I  went  down  the  stairs 
for  some  water  (from  the  top-floor  to  the  yard), 


THE   DWELLERS   BELOW       249 

and  was  walking  through  the  passage  when  I 
heard  footsteps  ascending  the  basement  stairs. 
The  thought  flashed  into  my  mind  that  some 
Turkey  Lane  hooligans  were  in  the  house.  I 
squeezed  myself  into  a  dark  corner  and  waited. 
The  footsteps  ceased,  and  then  seemed  to 
descend.  A  moment  of  uncertainty  ensued, 
then  I  heard  a  little  whispering,  and  the  foot- 
steps of  two  persons  could  be  heard  again 
coming  up  the  stairs. 

Out  of  the  gloom  appeared  a  woman's  face, 
surmounted  by  a  black  straw  sailor-hat  of 
battered  appearance  and  of  uncertain  age. 
She  was  followed  by  a  man  wearing  an  old 
yachting  cap,  the  rest  of  their  apparel  being 
but  dimly  visible.  They  both  seemed  to  be 
fairly  respectable,  yet  their  appearance  gave 
me  a  feeling  of  nausea.  It  was  as  though  I 
was  witnessing  the  resurrection  of  the  dead, 
as  they  rose  out  of  the  basement  and  walked 
into  the  street. 

Their  faces  were  bloodless  and  drawn,  and 
yet,  in  some  way  unaccountable  to  me,  their 
flesh  appeared  flabby.  They  looked  for  all 


250    ONE   OF  THE   MULTITUDE 

the  world  like  fishes  dragged  from  the  deepest 
depths  of  the  sea,  blinking  their  large  extended 
eyes  at  the  unwonted  sunlight.  The  man 
coughed  all  the  way  through  the  passage, 
and  both  disappeared  through  the  open  street 
door. 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

THE    TOLL    OF   TURKEY    LANE 

ONE  of  the  Jew's  sisters-in-law  married  one 
of  his  lodgers,  whereupon  great  were  the  re- 
joicings and  many  the  guests.  All  day  (I  was 
told)  various  Jewish  tradesmen  arrived  at  our 
house  with  halfpenny  bottles  of  lemonade, 
smoked  salmon  and  tubs  of  wallies  (a  wally  is 
a  small  cucumber  pickled  in  white  vinegar  and 
sold  after  a  good  deal  of  unnecessary  finger- 
ing and  squeezing  for  a  halfpenny),  with  many 
other  delicacies  dear  to  the  Jewish  taste.  Such 
extravagances  aroused  our  anticipations,  and 
we  were  not  disappointed. 

Three  musicians  of  a  sort  had  been  engaged, 
who  scraped  weird  jigs  and  wheezy  dances  out 
of  their  instruments  with  untiring  zeal.  I  was 
very  curious  to  inspect  this  affair  at  close 
quarters,  so  I  crept  down  the  dark  stairs  and 

looked  through  their  open  door. 

251 


252    ONE   OF    THE    MULTITUDE 

About  thirty  guests  were  in  one  small  room  : 
the  ladies  in  white,  and  for  the  most  part  bloom- 
ing with  heat  and  joy;  the  gentlemen  dressed 
according  to  taste,  and  whatever  garments  were 
obtainable  at  bargain  prices  "  down  the  Lane." 

The  musicians  struck  up  bravely.  All  the 
chairs  were  pushed  to  the  walls  so  that  the 
centre  of  the  room  was  quite  clear.  The  young 
ladies  sat  with  nodding  heads  and  with  feet 
beating  time  to  the  jig.  Then  the  Jew  himself 
darted  into  the  open  space  and  flung  himself 
round  the  room  in  that  series  of  spasmodic 
jerks  known  as  the  Russian  Dance. 

"  Bravo  !  "  "  Bravo  !  "  cried  the  excited 
foreigners.  "  Eet  is  goot !  "  "  Goot !  " 

And  so  the  evening  wore  on  until  the 
musicians  began  to  nod  over  their  instruments, 
jigs  and  dancing  ceased,  and  the  guests 
gradually  departed.  I  went  back  up-stairs 
again,  and  soon  we  were  asleep. 

It  was  still  dark  when  I  was  awakened;  the 
atmosphere  seemed  foggy,  I  could  hear  my 
mother  calling  through  the  wooden  partition, 
"  George  !  George  !  get  up  quick  !  "  and  yet 


THE   TOLL   OF  TURKEY  LANE     253 

louder  than  her  voice  was  the  hiss  of  a  steam 
jet  and  the  babble  of  a  crowd. 

I  slipped  on  some  clothes,  woke  my  brothers, 
and  proceeded  to  investigate  matters. 

Down  the  stairs  I  went,  and  paused  at  the 
scene  of  the  recent  festivities.  In  a  haze  of 
smoke  I  could  discern  some  firemen,  one  or 
two  policemen,  and  the  excited  Jew,  who  was 
wringing  his  hands  and  hindering  everybody. 

"  What's  up  ?  "  I  inquired ;  "  a  fire  ?  " 

'  Yes,"  replied  the  fireman ;  "  tell  your 
people  to  get  their  clothes  on  at  once.  I 
think  it's  got  under,  but  get  dressed  in  case 
it  flares  up  again." 

We  all  got  dressed  and  went  out  into  the 
street,  to  be  questioned  by  a  nondescript  crowd 
who  wanted  to  know :  How  it  happened  ? 
Why  it  happened?  Who  was  dead?  and  if 
not,  why  not  ?  They  were  rather  disappointed, 
I  am  afraid,  to  learn  the  mild  nature  of  our 
fire,  and  when  shortly  after  the  fire-engine 
drove  away,  leaving  just  one  man  to  keep 
watch,  they  quickly  slipped  away  into  the  grey 
morning. 


254    ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

It  was  not  a  serious  fire,  just  a  pair  of 
curtains  and  one  or  two  chairs  burned ;  but  our 
lurking  fear  of  fire  was  so  pronounced,  so 
haunting,  that  what  seemed  to  the  crowd,  and 
will  probably  seem  to  the  reader,  a  very  trivial 
affair,  was  charged  with  much  anxiety  and 
worry  to  us. 

The  basement  lodgers,  I  found,  were  very 
harmless  people,  at  the  very  bottom  of  honest 
domiciled  society.  People  who  made  frantic 
attempts  to  exist  sufficiently  by  honest  means, 
but  were  always  being  beaten. 

Early  every  morning  they  went  out  search- 
ing in  dust-bins  for  cinders,  pieces  of  wood, 
tea-leaves,  and  anything  else  they  could  make 
use  of.  At  half-past  nine  in  the  morning  they 
used  to  return,  have  some  sort  of  meal;  then 
the  man  made  rough  stools  and  crude  baby- 
chairs  until  evening,  when  he  journeyed  round 
to  public-houses  endeavouring  to  "buzz"  his 
wares  to  impecunious  bar-loungers :  stools 
threepence  each,  baby-chairs  eightpence. 

I  saw  the  woman  several  times  after  the 
early  morning  view  I  had  had,  but  I  never 


THE   TOLL  OF  TURKEY   LANE    255 

again  saw  her  husband,  who,  poor  man,  died 
of  consumption  shortly  afterwards,  aged  about 
thirty-five  years. 

These  are  the  people  who  starve  and  die, 
whilst  the  ruffians  of  Turkey  Lane  are  always 
able  to  raise  a  meal  without  much  difficulty. 

The  Jews  down-stairs  did  not  remain  very 
long  in  the  house  after  the  fire,  but  pre- 
pared to  sell  their  business  and  go  away  to  the 
Continent — or  so  we  were  told.  In  order  to 
impress  the  natives,  I  suppose,  a  clothes-line 
was  strung  up  in  our  yard,  upon  which  they 
hung  many  new  articles  of  wearing  apparel : 
including  some  women's  skirts  and  a  man's 
suit.  All  day  long  the  garments  flapped  about 
in  the  breeze,  and  nobody  noticed  when  they 
ceased  to  flap.  The  same  ruffians  who  had 
burgled  us  before  climbed  over  the  wall  from 
Turkey  Lane  and  annexed  the  garments,  so 
they  never  went  abroad,  whatever  their  rightful 
owners  may  have  done. 

Turkey  Lane  !  what  a  terrible  street,  lead- 
ing nowhere,  of  course — on  the  map.  The 
houses  were  let  out  by  the  room,  eight  rooms 


256   ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

one  house.  One  house,  eight  separate  families ; 
each  and  every  room  let  furnished  by  a  great 
unknown  person  named  Gutterson.  Every 
article  of  bedding  was  branded — 

"  GUTTERSON.     Stolen  from  Turkey  Lane  " ; 

as  were  the  few  old  chairs,  and  the  biscuit-box 
sort  of  table  thoughtfully  provided  by  the  great 
Gutterson.  For  these  rooms  the  rent  was 
fixed  at  tenpence  a  day.  I  am  not  sure  if  it 
was  paid  nightly  or  weekly,  I  believe  it 
depended  on  length  of  residence. 

Presiding  over  the  destinies  of  Gutterson's 
tenants,  and  representing  that  great  and  re- 
spected name,  was  the  "  deputy,"  a  fiery  Irish- 
woman, who  pitched  into  her  husband  at  such 
rare  intervals  as  when  the  tenants  were  unduly 
quiet  and  too  orderly  to  need  her  pugilistic 
attention.  I  should  like  to  know  Gutterson's 
real  name  and  position  in  society — it  would,  I 
think,  be  very  instructive. 

Among  the  sounds  that  floated  upward  every 
night  to  my  ears — among  the  oaths  and  curses, 


THE   TOLL   OF  TURKEY  LANE    257 

and  voices  in  dispute — came  also  the   fresh 
voice  of  a  young  girl. 

I  never  knew  the  girl  herself,  but  once  or 
twice  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  as  she  was 
looking  out  of  the  window  at  the  donkey  her 
father  kept  in  the  yard  (she  lived  in  a  back 
room). 

The  girl  always  sang  at  about  half -past 
ten  some  beautiful  song  such  as  "Annie 
Laurie"  or  "In  Old  Madrid,"  her  fresh  clear 
voice  rising  like  some  skylark  from  its  lowly 
nest  to  soar  for  a  few  brief  moments  in  ethereal 
planes. 

At  eleven  o'clock  or  later  the  voice  would 
cease  to  sing.  From  behind  the  window,  cur- 
tained by  an  old  shirt,  her  drunken  father 
could  be  heard  terrorizing  his  children  and 
bullying  his  wife. 

We  lived  in  a  rough  street  ourselves  with 
our  yard  adjoining  theirs,  but  it  was  an  East 
End  Belgravia  compared  with  Turkey  Lane. 
Often  as  I  went  home  between  ten  and  eleven 
o'clock  at  night  I  would  notice  ruffians  scurry 
across  the  road  and  sidle  along  the  wall  in 


258     ONE    OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

order  to  get  in  front  of  me,  when  they  would 
thrust  their  evil  faces  close  to  my  face,  and 
then,  with  a  half  nod  of  recognition,  allow  me 
to  pass  along  unmolested,  because  I  was 
known. 

About  this  time  I  began  to  notice  the  attrac- 
tions of  a  young  lady  attending  Borland 
Street  Chapel,  who  in  return  appeared  to  take 
a  pleasure  in  my  company. 

I  had  always  a  feeling,  though,  that  my 
environment  and  place  of  residence  were 
against  me,  a  feeling  that  made  me  rather 
diffident  about  becoming,  or  seeking  to  become, 
definitely  "  attached."  I  wished  to  wait  until 
I  should  leave  home,  and  live  under  better 
circumstances. 

However,  another  suitor  was  in  the  field  in 
the  person  of  Simpson,  who  was  now  again 
"  free  "  and  attracted  by  the  same  young  lady 
as  myself. 

He  said  quite  plainly  that  he  admired  her, 
but  admitted  that  I  had  a  prior  claim.  So 
would  I  make  my  choice  at  once  one  way  or 


THE  TOLL  OF  TURKEY  LANE  259 

the  other,  in  order  to  enable  him  to  advance 
his  suit  or  withdraw  it? 

It  was  all  very  straightforward,  and  with- 
out a  gleam  of  sentimentality. 

I  preferred  Simpson's  method  to  Mum- 
ford's  ;  although,  as  in  his  case,  the  lady's  ideas 
upon  the  question  were  not  considered  in  the 
least. 

We  were  sitting  upon  one  of  the  Embank- 
ment seats  during  this  conversation.  The  day 
had  been  warm,  but  as  evening  succeeded  it 
brought  a  colder  atmosphere  and  a  rose-tinted 
haze  which  gradually  deepened  and  changed 
into  a  grey  mist. 

It  was  Sunday,  before  ever  the  trams  ran 
along  the  beautiful  highway,  only  a  tug  or  a 
lazy  barge  in  motion  on  the  river. 

The  bridges  of  Blackfriars  and  Waterloo 
hung  over  the  dim  waters  on  either  hand,  alto- 
gether it  was  just  the  place  and  time  to  stir 
whatever  poetry  is  in  my  being,  and  here  was 
this  fellow,  this  unspiritual,  unemotional  young 
man  bidding  me  to  choose  "  my  gal "  or  let 
him  "  go  out  with  her." 


S  2 


260    ONE   OF  THE   MULTITUDE 

I  called  his  attention  to  the  beautiful  scene 
around.  He  said  he  was  getting  cold;  what 
were  my  intentions? 

I  evasively  replied  I  was  "  rather  young." 
He  replied  that  if  I  waited  until  I  got  old  I 
should  lose  her  to  somebody  else.  What  were 
my  intentions? 

I  said  at  last  in  desperation  that  if  the  girl 
would  have  me  I'd  have  her. 

"  All  right,"  he  said,  without  a  shade  of  dis- 
appointment in  his  voice.  "  Only  if  you 
change  your  mind,  you  might  put  a  word  in 
for  me,  will  you?" 


CHAPTER   XXX 

'THE  LARK'S  ON  THE  WING' 

SIMPSON  and  I  walked  home  without  ex- 
changing another  word,  both  of  us  were  busy 
with  our  own  thoughts. 

I  was  not  at  all  sure  that  I  loved  the  young 
lady  as  yet;  all  I  knew  was  a  great  sense  of 
responsibility :  I  felt  it  a  bounden  duty  to 
shield  her  from  him.  Indeed,  I  began  to  see 
that  I  was  really  too  fond  of  her  to  allow  him 
to  woo  her.  His  honest  but  coarse  nature 
would  have  swamped  all  the  bright,  affection- 
ate attributes  of  hers;  would  have  reduced 
her  to  the  shadow  of  his  own  sharp  assertive 
personality,  instead  of  helping  her  to  develop 
the  finer  instincts  I  felt  she  possessed. 

"  I  will  woo  you,  Grace,"  I  said  to  myself. 
"  I  will  '  go  out '  with  you,  if  you  will  have 
me." 

I  did  not  see  Grace  for  the  next  few  days, 

but  Simpson  did  not  wait  even  that  short  time 

261 


262     ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

to  see  whether  he  had  any  chance  or  not.  He 
straightway  proposed  to  "  go  out "  with  another 
girl. 

He  was  accepted. 

I  did  not  know  of  this  for  some  time. 

This  new  fiancee  of  his  had  been  friendly 
with  a  short,  rather  stout  young  lady  who 
seemed  to  look  upon  a  sad,  sad  world  with 
large  lack-lustre  eyes  set  in  a  white  immobile 
face. 

Seeing  that  her  friend  had  become 
"attached,"  Miss  Robbins,  no  doubt,  thought 
she  ought  to  do  likewise,  and  selected  me  as 
being  a  likely  person. 

At  Borland  Street  Chapel  one  evening  she 
came  up  to  me,  and  said — 

"  Oh — er — Mr.  Acorn,  I  'card  some  one  say 
that  they  heard  you  say  that  you  wouldn't  mind 
going  out  with  me,  is  that  true  ?  " 

Her  faded  face  flushed  a  little  as  she  spoke, 
she  looked  down  at  the  floor. 

"  No,  no  !  "  I  replied,  as  seriously  as  I  could. 
"  Some  mistake  has  been  made,  I  never  said 
such  a  thing." 


'THE   LARK'S   ON   THE   WING'    268 

"  Didn't  you  ? "  she  said  a  trifle  sadly. 

"  No,  I  didn't,"  I  replied  firmly. 

"  Only  if  you  'ad  'a'  done,"  she  continued 
meekly,  "er — I  wouldn't  mind." 

I  felt  so  sorry  for  her,  she  was  so  obviously 
a  faded  flower  with  a  hopeless  outlook  upon 
life. 

I  almost  apologized  for  not  having  said 
such  a  thing,  although  I  thought  she  had  con- 
cocted that  story  about  "having  heard,"  etc. 

Just  after  this  I  saw  Grace  herself,  and  after 
a  little  conversation  asked  her  if  she  would  go 
to  a  Saturday  night  concert  at  the  People's 
Palace  with  me. 

She  was  doubtful,  had  arranged  to  go  else- 
where with  a  girl  friend;  however,  I  agreed  to 
wait  for  her  at  a  certain  street  corner  at  seven 
o'clock  upon  the  coming  Saturday  evening, 
and  she  would  be  there  if  possible  not  later 
than  seven-fifteen. 

It  was  to  be  a  test  in  a  way :  if  she  really 
cares  for  me,  I  thought,  she  will  find  a  way 
to  come. 

At  ten  minutes  past  seven  I  began  to  doubt. 


264     ONE   OF   THE    MULTITUDE 

At  the  quarter-past  I  was  about  to  go  off  to  the 
Palace  alone,  when  Miss  Robbins  turned  the 
corner,  and  seeing  me,  advanced  with  hand 
outstretched. 

"  Er — good-evening,  Mr.  Acorn,"  she  began. 

"  Good-evening,  Miss  Robbins." 

"  Er — nice  evening,  isn't  it  ? — you  know,  nice 
for  walking." 

"  Very  nice ; "  I  gave  a  glance  up  the  street, 
but  could  see  no  sign  of  Grace. 

"  Rather  cold  standing  still,  though,"  she 
continued. 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  I  don't  think  I  shall  stand 
here  much  longer." 

"No?"  she  inquired. 

"  No." 

"  Er — Mr.  Acorn,"  she  continued  after 
this,  "er — I  hope  you  wasn't  offended  at  me 
asking  you  the  other  night  if  what  I  heard 
was " 

"  Not  in  the  least,  not  in  the  least,"  I  assured 
her  hurriedly,  for  down  the  street  I  could  see 
Grace. 

Miss    Robbins   persisted   in   explaining   the 


'THE   LARK'S   ON   THE   WING'    265 

matter,  until  Grace  and  I  had  shaken  hands, 
and  then  it  dawned  upon  her  mind  that  we 
were  meeting  by  appointment. 

'  They'll  wonder  at  home  where  I've  got 
to,"  she  said  rather  faintly.  "  Good-night," 
and  stooped  to  pick  up  her  fallen  gloves  until 
we  were  some  distance  away. 

Grace  and  I  saw  a  costume  recital  of  Man- 
tana  at  the  People's  Palace,  rather  a  humor- 
ous performance,  Maritana  being  imperson- 
ated by  a  matronly  lady  quite  fifteen  stones  in 
weight. 

We  enjoyed  every  Saturday  evening  to- 
gether after  this ;  often  at  the  People's  Palace, 
sometimes  elsewhere,  whilst  in  the  following 
spring  we  visited  Epping  Forest,  or  journeyed 
down  the  river  to  Richmond,  Kew,  or  Hamp- 
ton Court,  to  spend  our  Saturday  afternoons 
and  evenings. 

But  I  am  anticipating.  All  the  events  I 
have  narrated  in  these  last  chapters  took  place 
in  the  two  months  only  that  had  elapsed  since 
Howton  and  I  gave  up  our  shop. 

Howton  had  just  got  work;  I  was  thinking 


266     ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

of  leaving  Wise  &  Sageman,  who  were  get- 
ting very  slack  and  giving  me  days  "  off." 

I  saw  a  bill-head  at  last  advertising  for  a 
"maker,"  in  the  ironmonger's  shop  window, 
and  decided  to  try  for  it,  more  especially 
because  the  advertisement  stipulated  :  "  Must 
have  good  references."  This  qualification  was 
quite  a  new  thing  in  my  experience  of  the 
trade;  I  thought  the  situation  must  be  rather 
superior  to  the  ordinary  run  in  consequence. 
I  applied  at  the  given  address  (a  private  house), 
but  the  man  was  "  out." 

It  has  been  my  boast  that  I  have  never  lost 
an  opportunity.  Upon  this  occasion  I  decided 
to  be  the  first  to  see  him  when  he  did  return. 

Standing  on  the  opposite  pavement  I 
observed  quite  a  number  of  men  approach, 
stand  still  and  think,  pass  the  house,  return, 
read  a  playbill  on  the  wall,  and  at  last  knock. 

The  answer  in  every  case  appeared  to  be 
the  same  as  I  had  received,  whereupon  the  men 
went  for  a  walk  round  the  houses. 

I  did  not  move  more  than  a  few  feet  during 


'THE    LARK'S   ON   THE  WING'    267 

an  hour  and  a  half.  At  last  I  saw  a  man 
coming  down  the  street  with  his  head  high  in 
the  air,  and  walking  as  though  he  was  very 
careful  where  he  placed  his  feet. 

He  appeared  to  be  well  dressed,  well  fed, 
and  very  well  pleased  with  himself.  I  crossed 
the  road  wondering  if  he  were  my  man.  At 
the  advertised  address  he  stopped,  twirled  his 
moustache  for  a  moment  and  fumbled  for  his 
keys. 

I  lost  no  time  in  introducing  myself. 

"  Good-morning  !  "  I  said.  "  You  want  a 
'  maker/  I  believe  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  come  in." 

I  looked  round  before  entering.  About  a 
dozen  men  were  watching  us  from  various 
points — other  would-be  applicants  returning 
from  their  walk  round  the  houses. 

I  determined  not  to  leave  that  man  without 
getting  the  job;  neither  did  I. 

In  many  ways  it  was  the  most  important 
situation  I  had  obtained,  for  at  last  I  was  to 
pass  out  of  my  assistant-improver  stage  to 


268     ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

blossom  out  into  a  full-blown  journeyman, 
making  in  this  case  whole  articles  myself,  at 
piece-work  rates,  i.  e.  not  so  much  per  hour, 
but  so  much  for  the  complete  job. 

Of  course  I  had  completed  work  before, 
whilst  "on  my  own,"  but  this  was  the  first 
occasion  an  employer  had  recognized  me  as 
fully  fledged — I  had  crossed  the  Rubicon. 

This  step  is  the  most  important  and  delicate 
of  all  that  the  man  who  learns  his  trade  as  I 
learned  mine  has  to  take.  Many  hover  upon 
the  brink  of  the  stream,  as  it  were,  but  never 
jump  over,  and  so  remain  under-paid,  over- 
worked "  improvers  "  all  their  lives. 

I  was  the  only  employee  of  Mr.  Wimball; 
of  whom  I  managed  to  receive  about  seven- 
pence-halfpenny  an  hour,  on  an  average. 

His  shop  was  in  the  garden  of  the  house  at 
which  I  applied,  but  had  a  separate  entrance 
at  the  back  through  a  courtway. 

I  had  been  working  in  this  shop  for  a  fort- 
night only  when  we  moved  to  other  premises 
similarly  situated  but  in  much  better  repair. 
The  move  once  over,  business  affairs  became 


'THE   LARK'S   ON  THE   WING'    269 

more  tranquil  than  ever  before  in  my  life.  I 
studied  my  employer's  needs  and  endeavoured 
to  satisfy  him.  I  also  studied  my  trade  technic- 
ally and  tried  by  every  means  in  my  power  to 
become  a  "  Compleat  Cabinet  Maker." 


CHAPTER    XXXI 

GETTING   LODGINGS 

WITH  my  mind  fairly  tranquil  about  em- 
ployment, a  little  money  saved  and  deposited 
in  the  Penny  Bank,  I  began  to  feel  more  dis- 
satisfied than  ever  with  my  mode  of  living.  I 
could  not  remain  at  home  any  longer.  It  was 
physically  impossible  to  get  to  sleep  at  night, 
whilst  by  day  my  home  simply  offended 
every  sense  and  all  my  feelings. 

I  believed  that  if  I  remained  in  those 
quarters  much  longer  I  should  contract  con- 
sumption or  some  other  horrible  disease,  and 
follow  Jordan  and  the  late  basement  lodger 
into  an  early  grave.  "  Why  need  I  stop  ? "  I 
fiercely  asked  myself,  and  forthwith  went  out 
searching  for  lodgings. 

I  saw  many  very  undesirable  places  in  my 
travels,  of  the  "  Lodgings  for  a  respectable 

young  man  "  type.     In  every  case  the  accom- 

270 


GETTING   LODGINGS  271 

modation  was  to  be  shared  with  other,  more  or 
less,  respectable  young  men. 

One  place  at  which  I  applied  was  apparently 
run  on  Box  and  Cox  lines. 

I  called  there  one  evening  at  about  half-past 
eight;  my  knock  was  answered  by  a  surly  man 
with  a  most  disagreeable  mouth  and  a  perma- 
nent frown. 

"  Want  to  see  my  lodgings  '  to  let/  do  you  ?  " 
he  responded.  "Well,  I  think  you  can  come 
in." 

As  soon  as  I  was  inside  his  kitchen,  he  said  : 
"  I  shall  have  to  leave  you  a  minute,  I  don't 
know  if  the  recess  has  got  up  yet." 

I  sat  down  and  waited,  pulled  out  a  copy  of 
Adam  Bede  which  I  happened  to  have  in  my 
pocket,  and  read  until  he  returned. 

:<  Take  you  up  in  a  minute,"  he  then  said 
gruffly. 

II  Very  well,"  I  replied,  closing  my  book. 
"What  have  you  got  there?"  he  inquired. 
"Adam  Bede." 

"Novel,  I  suppose?"  he  said  in  a  scornful 
tone. 


272     ONE   OF  THE   MULTITUDE 

"  Yes." 

:<  Trash  !  "  he  commented. 
"  Why,  some  of  the  finest  works  in  English 
literature  are  novels !  "  I  insisted. 

"  Novels  are  an  excuse  for  wasting  time," 
he  added,  as  if  his  dictum  were  final.  "  Never 
read  novels  myself." 

"If  you  were  to  read  a  novel  or  two  for 
yourself,"  I  said,  "you  wouldn't  talk  as  you 
are  doing." 

"Think  I  don't  know  what  I'm  talking 
about  ? "  he  replied ;  "  why,  my  missus  reads 
no  end  of  novels — the  Heartsease  Library  and 
Homer's  and  the  serial  in  Answers.  Look  at 
'em  myself.  Novels  ! — ugh  !  waste  of  good 
time,  when  the  missus  ought  to  be  making  the 
lodgers'  beds." 

"  You're  not  a  reader  yourself,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  That  I  am,  I'm  a  deep  reader,  and  I  don't 
read  novels." 

Sounds  of  footsteps  descending  the  stairs 
silenced  us  for  a  moment. 

"What  I  read,"  he  continued  proudly,  "is 
ffisffy." 


GETTING   LODGINGS          273 

At  this  moment  a  man  with  towsled  hair  and 
a  general  appearance  of  having  just  awakened 
from  sleep,  passed  through  the  kitchen. 

I  was  taken  up-stairs  to  view  this  "  Lodging 
for  a  respectable  single  man,"  and  was  shown 
into  a  room  containing  four  beds;  upon  one  a 
man  was  reclining,  two  others  were  "  made " 
and  ready  for  sleeping  upon,  whilst  the  fourth 
was  disarranged,  the  bed-clothes  tossed  about 
anyhow;  it  was  placed  in  a  recess. 

"  My  wife's  novel-reading,"  explained  tho 
man,  pointing  to  the  dishevelled  bed  in  the 
recess.  "  If  it  wasn't  for  that,  she'd  have  made 
that  bed  long  ago;  waste  of  time,  novel-read- 
ing. Well,  what  do  you  think  of  it,  three-and- 
six  a  week,  in  a  recess  all  to  yourself  ?  " 

He  was  actually  proposing  to  let  me  the 
recess-bed,  although  I  had  seen  the  man  who 
had  just  got  out  of  it. 

"  Don't  think  it  will  suit  me,"  I  said. 

"  Not  suit  you  !  "  He  was  greatly  surprised. 
"  Never  heard  any  one  say  that  of  my  place 
before!  Well,  and  why  don't  it  suit  you?" 

"  For  one  thing,"  I  said,  "  of  an  evening  I 


274     ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

like  to  sit  and  read  a  book;  now  how  could  I 
sit  up  here  and  read  ? " 

"  That's  easy,"  he  replied ;  "  come  in  the 
kitchen  with  me.  I'll  lend  you  some  hist'ry." 

"  Yes,  it  won't  suit  me,  thanks,"  I  said, 
looked  at  his  clock,  asked  if  that  was  the  right 
time,  and  rose  to  depart. 

:<  You're  a  scholar,  ain't  you  ? "  he  inquired, 
as  we  were  descending  the  stairs. 

"  I'm  fond  of  reading,"  I  replied,  "  I  am  not 
so  sure  about  being  a  scholar." 

We  were  passing  through  the  passage  when 
he  suddenly  said,  "  Do  you  know  Palaeon- 
tology ?  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  I  replied. 

"  Palaeontology,"  he  repeated. 

"  Oh,"  I  said,  "  do  you  mean  Paley  on 
Theology  ?  " 

"  No  !  Palaeontology  :  you've  never  heard 
of  it,  have  you? 

I  assured  him  I  had  never  heard  of  it  before. 
We  now  stood  at  the  doorway. 

"  Well,  then,"  he  concluded,  "  I  don't  wonder 
at  your  reading  novels ;  you're  no  scholar  either ; 


GETTING  LODGINGS          275 

don't  know  palaeontology — ugh !     Well,   I'm 
glad  you  don't  like  my  lodgings,  good-night." 

I  was  glad  enough  to  get  away  from  this 
man  with  his  history,  his  palaeontology  and  his 
lodgings,  and  to  spend  the  rest  of  the  evening 
walking  out  with  Grace. 

We  laughed  famously  over  my  experiences 
of  different  lodgings. 

I  will  not  say  much  about  Grace,  our  relation- 
ship is  too  dear  for  that;  but  the  reader  may 
legitimately  desire  to  know  at  this  point  if  my 
second  thoughts  about  Bessie  Brown  were 
justified  by  experience. 

They  were.  I  had  ample  opportunities  for 
forming  some  judgment  of  her  as  time  went 
on;  gradually  her  image  faded  from  my  mind, 
just  as  the  moon's  light  wanes  when  the  sun 
rises. 

Another  lodging  I  inspected  was  run  by  a 
very  old  woman,  a  widow,  who  rented  two 
small  rooms,  and  sought  to  sub-let  one  of  those 
to  utwo  respectable  young  men."  The  idea 
of  being  one  of  her  tenants  did  not  appeal  to 
me.  Surely  (I  began  to  think)  Morocco  Street 


T  2 


276     ONE  OF  THE   MULTITUDE 

is  better  than  this.  To  be  herded  together  like 
sheep  is  bad  under  any  circumstances,  but  to 
be  herded  with  strangers  is  infinitely  worse 
than  with  one's  own  family. 

I  decided  to  take  an  empty  room. 

Upon  the  following  Saturday  afternoon  I 
applied  at  a  house  a  mile  distant  from  Morocco 
Street,  and  proposed  myself  as  tenant  of  the 
vacant  room  on  the  top  floor  as  advertised. 

There  was  much  head-wagging  on  the  part 
of  the  good  lady :  such  a  thing  she'd  never 
heard  of;  who  was  going  to  make  my  bed? 
and  who  was  going  to  clean  out  my  room? 

"  I  can  make  my  bed,"  I  said,  "  and  my 
young  lady  will  come  round  occasionally 
before  I  get  home  from  work  and  clean  it  out 
for  me." 

She  made  a  show  of  reluctance,  but  as  the 
room  was  awkwardly  situated  and  had  been 
empty  for  some  months,  I  was  accepted,  or 
rather  my  deposit  on  account  was  accepted, 
with  thanks. 

The  furniture  I  had  remaining  from  my  un- 
saleable stock,  which  had  been  stored  by  dif- 


GETTING   LODGINGS          277 

ferent  acquaintances,  I  now  had  polished  and 
placed  in  my  room. 

A  chair  bedstead,  "absolutely  without  tem- 
per," as  horse-dealers  say,  was  installed  and 
permanently  fixed,  so  that  no  repetition  of 
the  Morocco  Street  breakdowns  would  occur; 
whilst  upon  the  walls  I  tacked  some  of  the 
"  Hundred  Best  Pictures,"  then  being  issued 
serially  by  Whiteley. 

To  Grace  was  deputed  the  purchase  of  bed- 
ding and  curtains  for  me.  I  went  myself  and 
bought  cups  and  saucers,  plates,  knives,  etc., 
a  very  old  and  smoky  oil-stove  and  a  water- 
can,  and  so  everything  was  prepared.  True, 
the  boards  of  the  room  were  bare,  but  what 
was  that  to  me?  Here  was  an  ideal  being 
realized. 


CHAPTER   XXXII 

"LEAVING  THE  NEST 

I  HAD  arranged  with  my  landlady  to  com- 
mence living  in  my  room  on  the  Saturday  after 
my  application,  and  I  announced  my  intention 
of  leaving  home  to  my  parents  on  Thursday. 

The  news  was  received  with  a  frigid  silence. 
I  had  expected  "  scenes  "  to  occur,  instead  of 
which  my  mother  pursed  up  her  lips  and  finally 
told  my  father  that  I  should  very  soon  be  ask- 
ing to  be  taken  back  again,  to  which  my  father 
suitably  responded. 

He  also  added  later  that  I  had  a  lot  of 
brothers  and  sisters  younger  than  myself  to 
whom  I  owed  a  duty ;  they  all  needed  to  be  kept 
in  food  and  raiment;  and  now,  when  I  was 
capable  of  looking  after  myself,  and  was  earn- 
ing what  he  was  pleased  to  call  "plenty  of 

money,"  I  was  "  leaving  the  nest,"  heedless  of 

278 


LEAVING   THE  NEST          279 

the  other  chicks,  who  might  starve  for  all  I 
cared :  I,  who  had  had  the  best  of  everything ; 
I,  who  had  been  carefully  schooled  and  brought 
up  with  the  most  tender  care. 

Although  illiterate,  his  speech  had  a  rough 
eloquence  that  impressed  me,  though  it  did  not 
always  convince.  I  had  quite  made  my  mind 
easy  about  going — it  was  essential  to  my  life, 
I  said,  and  as  for  my  shielded  youth  and  the 
tender  care  I  was  told  about  I  had  my  own 
memories  concerning  those — bitter  memories. 
In  short,  I  was  going  to  leave  home,  and  no 
power  on  earth  should  stop  me ;  I  was  anxious 
to  do  something  for  my  brothers  and  sisters, 
and  suggested  coming  daily  to  dinner  and  pay- 
ing seven  shillings  and  sixpence  for  the  privi- 
lege, which  was  to  cover  the  cost  of  my  wash- 
ing. The  dinner  was  worth  about  sixpence  a 
day,  the  washing  sixpence  per  week,  the 
balance  of  three  and  sixpence  I  was  not  only 
willing,  but  anxious  to  give  up  towards  the 
maintenance  of  the  younger  children. 

Two  other  brothers  had  left  school  and  were 
working  by  now,  so,  although  a  large  family, 


280     ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

the  position  of  affairs  was  not  by  any  means 
desperate,  and  would  get  better  with  each 
succeeding  year. 

My  proposal  was  adopted;  my  younger 
brother  Sid  allowed  to  help  me  remove  my 
books  (for  a  consideration). 

I  confess  I  trembled  a  little  as  I  paid  my 
last  full  week's  money  over  to  my  mother  on 
the  Saturday;  I  had  burned  my  boats,  I  had 
crossed  over  into  the  strange  land  of  inde- 
pendent manhood. 

My  going  was  as  unconcerned  a  business  as 
I  could  wish  for,  just  an  awkward,  "Well, 
good-day,"  from  me ;  a  careless,  "  So 
long,"  from  my  father,  no  salutation  at  all 
from  my  mother.  Then  down  the  stairs  and 
away. 

It  was  later  than  usual  that  night  when  I 
got  into  bed.  I  had  been  out  with  Grace 
during  the  evening,  and  sat  looking  round  my 
room  and  thinking  and  dreaming  for  hours 
after  escorting  her  home. 

I  pondered  again  over  my  father's  words  : 
Was  I  an  ungrateful  son? 


LEAVING   THE   NEST  281 

The  question  worried  me  for  a  time. 
I  could  see  very  little  to  be  grateful  for — to 
him. 

To  my  mother?  Yes,  her  struggles  to  supply 
our  physical  needs,  especially  during  my 
father's  enforced  absence,  were  quite,  quite 
heroic,  I  hope  I  shall  never  forget  that;  but, 
if  only  to  her  strength  of  purpose  had  been 
added  some  spiritual  sympathy,  some  ray  of 
tender  love,  I  know  I  should  have  responded 
with  generous  affection — my  mother  would 
have  been  so  much  to  me. 

I  can  only  suppose  that  life  to  her  had  been 
an  iron  mould  in  which  all  plastic  sympathies 
had  been  compressed. 

I  did  not  sleep  very  well  that  first  night;  I 
got  up  and  sat  by  the  little  attic  window  for 
some  time,  alone  with  the  stars. 

The  unwonted  silence  of  the  strange  streets 
below,  the  peculiar  beauties  of  the  night,  as 
dim  clouds  came  and  hovered  over  the  face  of 
the  moon,  which  appeared  again  and  again, 
brighter  than  ever,  as  if  to  reassert  its  title 
as  Queen  of  the  Night,  took  me  out  of 


282     ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

myself.     For  a  time  I  held  communion  with 
the  Infinite. 

At  last  the  bare  boards  of  my  room  struck  so 
cold  a  chill  into  my  bare  feet  I  was  glad  to 
return  to  bed  and  sleep. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII 

HEYDAY ! 

MR.  WIMBALL,  my  new  employer,  laboured 
under  a  sense  of  injustice.  After  years  of 
thought,  deep  painful  thought,  he  had  arrived 
at  the  conclusion  that  he  was  a  man  of  genius, 
but  that  owing  to  a  little  deafness  the  world 
had  neglected  him,  and  favoured  certain  stri- 
dent, block-headed  trade  rivals.  He  began 
every  morning  with  the  querulous  complaint — 

"  They  don't  want  brains." 

"Who  don't?"  I  queried  in  reply. 

!t  The  big  firms."  He  always  looked  about 
his  bench  for  a  chisel  at  this  point,  and  having 
found  one,  sharpened  his  pencil  with  it. 

"  The  big  firms,"  he  would  repeat. 

"  Well,  what  have  they  done  now?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing !  "  airily  waving  his  hand, 
"  nothing  !  Only  laughed  at  my  new  invention. 

Wouldn't  even  let  me  demonstrate.     Lot  o' 

283 


284    ONE    OF   THE    MULTITUDE 

fools.  If  another  man,  Wilkins  or  Jobson,  was 
to  sneak  my  idea,  would  sell  like  hot  cakes — 
'  clever  idea ! '  they'd  say  then,  if  anybody  else 
made  'em." 

This  particular  invention  (one  of  many)  was 
a  dwarf  bookcase  which  folded  up  to  save 
room  when  not  in  use,  or  during  removal. 
After  a  great  deal  of  pulling  and  pushing  it 
was  possible  to  convert  the  contrivance  from  a 
neat  fixture  into  a  clumsy  portability  with  a  net 
saving  of  two  inches  from  back  to  front,  and  a 
gross  waste  of  good  time.  When  "  portable  " 
it  was  necessary  to  tie  a  piece  of  string  round 
it  to  prevent  it  flapping  about.  For  this  inven- 
tion, which  was  certainly  ingenious  but  of  no 
practical  use,  Mr.  Wimball  sought  to  take  out 
a  patent,  and  daily,  under  pledge  of  secrecy, 
brought  people  round  to  the  shop  to  show  it  off 
and  to  invite  comments. 

I  am  not  quite  sure  that  his  deafness  was 
not  rather  a  blessing  to  him  in  some  ways;  I 
am  sure  if  he  had  heard  the  comments  with  my 
ears  he  would  have  been  considerably  less  com- 
placent and  self-satisfied  after  such  visits. 


HEYDAY !  285 

Every  Saturday  a  verbal  battle  occurred 
between  us  over  the  question  of  the  week's 
wages. 

His  great  object  was  to  get  me  to  leave  as 
much  money  back  as  possible  until  "next 
week."  Thus,  if  I  earned  thirty-five  shillings, 
he  would  say — 

"  Oh,  have  twenty-seven ;  might  not  have 
much  work  next  week ;  you'll  be  able  to  do  with 
eight  shillings  to  come." 

"  Let  next  week  take  care  of  itself,"  was  my 
reply;  "I've  earned  thirty-five  shillings  this 
week,  haven't  I  ?  " 

"Yes;  but " 

"  Very  well,  then,  give  it  to  me ;  if  next 
week's  a  short  week  I'll  have  to  put  up  with  it; 
I  won't  ask  you  to  give  me  more  than  I've 
earned,  so  I'll  have  thirty-five  now,  please." 

"  Yes ;  but  a  young  man  like  you  ought  to 
be  thrifty.  Have  twenty-seven  now,  and  leave 
the  other  to  stand  over." 

"  I'll  be  thrifty  in  my  own  way,"  I  said,  "  I 
think  I  can  mind  eight  shillings  as  well  as 
you." 


286     ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

He  generally  parted  with  the  larger  sum. 

Of  course  he  did  not  get  his  living  by  his 
inventions,  but  had  certain  stock  lines — side- 
boards, hall-stands,  dinner-wagons,  orders  for 
which  came  in  fairly  regularly. 

Like  all  my  other  employers,  however,  he 
fell  slack  at  times  (there  was  nothing  for  me 
to  do  for  a  fortnight  during  one  such  period); 
consequently  my  wages  fluctuated  consider- 
ably, from  eighteen  shillings  to  two  pounds 
five,  when  we  had  an  extra  specially  busy  week. 

He  was  kind  enough,  however,  during  my 
fortnight's  slackness  to  allow  me  the  use  of  his 
shop  for  making  some  articles  of  furniture  for 
my  room,  for  which  privilege  I  was  duly 
thankful. 

He  was  a  man  who  irritated  his  employees 
most  when  he  essayed  to  do  things  for  their 
own  good.  For  my  own  part  I  got  on  fairly 
well  with  him,  but  I  have  met  workmen  since 
who  have  expressed  very  bitter  opinions  of 
Mr.  Wimball. 

Six  months  passed  away  without  conspicuous 
events  after  leaving  home.  During  this  period 


HEYDAY !  287 

life  gave  me  much  joy  of  a  quiet  satisfying 
nature.  A  deep  affection  for  Grace  gilded 
everything  in  my  sight  with  the  wonderful  light 
of  romance. 

Saturdays  were  particularly  blessed  days. 
In  the  summer  the  band-stand  in  the  Embank- 
ment Gardens,  the  fairy  lamps  illuminating  the 
thousands  of  faces,  young  and  old,  turned  to 
the  players;  the  whispering  lovers,  in  whose 
hearts  echoed  the  strain  of  the  previous  item, 
a  simple  melody  with  an  agreeably  plaintive 
refrain,  were  such  sources  of  happiness  that  to 
conjure  up  such  visions  is  to  recall  the  delicious 
thoughts  I  entertained. 

I  felt  as  if  all  the  world  was  growing  younger 
with  me,  that  the  winter  of  Care  had  really 
ushered  in  the  spring  of  Youth  and  Hope — not 
only  for  me,  but  for  everybody. 

How  bright  and  beautiful  the  world  seemed  ! 
In  the  silence  of  my  room,  after  retiring  from 
such  scenes,  I  sought  to  know  myself;  ardently 
I  longed  to  purge  my  soul  of  any  dross  it 
possessed. 

Every  questionable  act  or  sarcastic  retort  I 


288     ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

had  perpetrated  during  the  day  came  under  my 
stern  eye.  I  sought  to  check  that  part  of  my 
nature  that  is  wayward  and  warlike.  I  thought 
it  was  a  man's  duty  to  perfect  himself  during 
this  life — it  was  a  duty  to  humanity,  apart  from 
religious  impulse. 

Toward  religion  my  attitude  was  unchanged, 
with  the  exception  that  I  read  several  rational- 
ist books,  which  left  me  believing  in  a  Creator, 
but  hopelessly  unable  to  square  belief  with 
Reason,  or  to  disentangle  my  thoughts  about 
the  Atonement. 

This  state  of  mind  toward  religion  did  not 
affect  my  general  happiness  at  this  time, 
although  it  was  to  do  so  later;  my  joys  seemed 
so  inexhaustible  that  nothing  could  lower  my 
good  spirits,  or  really  provoke  me. 

All  this  time  I  had  my  dinners  with  my 
parents,  although  almost  shunned  by  my 
brothers  and  sisters  because  they  did  not  under- 
stand me,  by  my  parents  because  I  was  the 
creator  of  a  dangerous  precedent. 

Whilst  we  were  having  dinner  one  day  the 
part  of  the  ceiling  immediately  over  the  table 


HEYDAY !  289 

collapsed,  and  buried  the  viands  under  a  mass 
of  plaster  and  paper. 

Luckily  beyond  a  scratch  or  two  nobody  was 
hurt  physically  ;  the  meal,  of  course,  was 
brought  to  a  hasty  conclusion;  we  went  back 
to  work  rather  earlier  than  usual.  The  result 
of  this  accident,  if  the  subsidence  of  a  faulty 
ceiling  can  be  called  an  accident,  was  that  my 
mother  decided  to  remain  in  that  house  no 
longer.  She  was  justifiably  irate,  and  lost  no 
time  in  seeking  and  obtaining  another  dwelling, 
a  small  house  some  little  distance  from  the  old 
locality. 

To  this  new  place,  then,  I  turned  my  steps 
every  day  for  dinner.  It  was  farther  off  for  me 
to  go,  but  I  was  glad  to  see  them  get  away 
from  the  dangers  and  the  Jews  of  the  house 
in  Morocco  Street. 

"  Want  to  have  a  word  with  you,"  my  father 
said  a  week  or  so  after  the  removal;  "won't 
keep  you  a  minute." 

"Do  you?"  I  replied;   "what  is  it?" 

"Well,  me  and  your  mother's  been  talking 
things  over,  and  taking  one  thing  and  another 


290     ONE    OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

we  thought  we'd  ask  you  if  you  think  you're 
doing  your  duty  by  the  young  'uns  and  us, 
because " 

"Because  what?" 

"  Because  I  don't." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Well," — for  a  moment  my  father  hesitated, 
then  carefully  looked  me  up  and  down,  in- 
spected my  boots,  silently  criticized  my 
trousers,  approved  of  my  taste  in  jackets,  gave 
extra  attention  to  my  collar  and  tie,  and  finally 
looked  me  full  in  the  face.  "  Do  you  think 
you're  paying  enough?"  he  inquired. 

"Why,  don't  you?" 

"Ask  yourself  the  fair  question,"  he  con- 
tinued ;  "  ask  yourself  :  '  Am  I  doing  my  duty 
by  my  little  brothers  and  sisters  and  the  old 
parents  who've  struggled  so  hard  for  me  ? ' 

"  I  don't  think  we  need  go  into  all  that,"  I 
said;  "what  is  it  exactly  that  you  want?" 

"  Your  mother  and  me  think  you  must  pay 
us  eight-and-six  a  week,  and  that's  not  much, 
considering." 

"  And  if  I  don't  agree  ?  "  I  interposed. 


HEYDAY !  291 

"  Sorry  to  lose  you,  my  boy,  but  there'll  be 
no  dinners  for  you  next  week  if  you  don't." 

"Very  well,"  I  said  finally;  "don't  cook  any 
dinners  for  me  next  week,  then,  for  I  won't 
come  here  any  more.  I've  been  trying  to  be 
as  generous  to  you  as  I  could,  and  now  you're 
trying  to  impose  upon  me.  Keep  your  dinners, 
and  I'll  keep  myself." 

"  All  right,  my  boy,"  said  my  father ;  "  sorry 
to  lose  you,  but — there's  the  situation." 


U2 


CHAPTER   XXXIV 

HOME 

MY  father's  words  severed  our  arrangements. 
I  made  no  effort  to  go  near  the  family  after 
this,  excepting  about  once  a  month  when  I  just 
inquired  after  everybody's  health,  gave  half- 
pence to  the  younger  children,  and  departed  as 
I  had  arrived,  without  mingling  one  of  my 
interests  with  theirs.  They  listened  to  all  I 
had  to  say,  of  course,  but  asked  no  questions, 
nor  evinced  the  slightest  curiosity  about  the  life 
I  was  leading  apart  from  them. 

I  now  had  no  place  to  turn  to  for  home  food, 
the  coffee-shop  had  to  satisfy  my  needs. 

To  depend  upon  coffee-shops  for  every  meal 
one  has  is  not  a  happy  state,  there  are  so  few 
good  ones. 

Then,  again,  very  few  coffee-shops  are  open 
on  Sunday,  so  that  to  get  a  dinner  at  all  on 

that  day  is  a  matter  for  congratulation. 

292 


HOME  293 

One  shop  after  another  I  tried.  In  some  the 
food  was  simply  hotted-up  stuff  that  the  week's 
trade  had  failed  to  clear;  in  other  shops  the 
act  of  eating  was  made  uncomfortable  by  gangs 
of  boys  and  young  men  gambling  for  half- 
pence, in  the  intervals  of  which  they  consumed 
pastry  and  tea  and  looked  on  other  customers 
as  interlopers  and  spies.  I  settled  down  at 
last  in  a  shop  without  these  objections,  but 
having  a  distinct  flavour  of  its  own.  At  certain 
times  a  number  of  motor-'bus  drivers  came  into 
the  place  smelling  strongly  of  petrol.  Such 
a  smell  is  distressing  at  meal-times.  I  learned 
to  get  there  early  and  clear  out  again  before 
the  breeze  came  in. 

But  oh  !  the  horror  of  those  meals  at  the  best 
of  times;  the  gross  crunchings  of  the  bleary- 
faced  man  in  the  corner  seat,  the  constant  inter- 
ruption as  one  and  another  passes  you  "  if  you 
don't  mind."  Then  the  man  with  the  bird- 
cage tied  in  a  black  neckerchief  raises  his 
voice  on  high  in  denunciation  of  the  shop's 
newspaper,  of  which  he  has  only  secured  the 
advertisement  pages,  whilst  other  people,  prin- 


294     ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

cipally  the  bleary-faced  man,  read  and  flaunt 
the  news  with  evident  satisfaction. 

Perhaps  they  still  go  through  the  same  per- 
formance, still  have  the  same  rushing  crowd 
of  chauffeurs,  the  same  pungent  breath  of 
petrol  mingling  with  their  stews.  For  me 
the  scene  has  changed, — there  are  flowers 
on  my  table  as  I  write,  Grace  and  I  have 
just  finished  our  Sunday  dinner,  the  most 
blessed  meal  of  the  week;  I  am  sitting  in 
the  calm  of  my  own  home,  with  a  strenuous 
week's  work  behind  and  before  me,  thankful 
and  happy  that  I  no  longer  depend  upon  coffee- 
shops. 

I  cannot  altogether  dismiss  my  memories  of 
coffee-shops  with  these  indications  of  better 
times. 

My  parents'  apparent  dislike  of  me  caused 
me  to  brood  over  things,  every  little  event  that 
seemed  to  go  against  me  was  magnified  by  a 
too  willing  imagination. 

My  lodgings,  too,  were  not  quite  weather- 
proof, the  rain  trickled  through  the  roof  on  to 
my  shoulders  when  asleep,  whilst  I  neglected 


HOME  295 

to  trouble  about  fires,  although  the  temperature 
was  bitterly  cold. 

I  was  worried,  too,  about  work.  Wimball  was 
quite  unable  to  find  me  anything  to  do.  So 
now  by  day  I  visited  ironmongers'  shops,  or 
stood  at  some  corner  or  another  wondering 
whatever  would  become  of  me — where,  and 
when,  these  ups  and  downs  would  end. 

Grace  was  very  comforting  in  a  way,  but  I 
saw  no  hope  in  anything,  troubles  crowded 
round — mental,  physical,  and  spiritual. 

I  worried  about  my  relationship  to  God,  and 
prayed  for  some  light,  some  faith  that  could 
convince  me  that  all  was  not  chaos  and 
chance. 

Poor  Howton  at  this  time  was  doing  very 
badly,  and  spoke  gloomily  about  the  future 
before  him. 

"  That's  just  it,"  I  agreed  with  him ;  "our  lot's 
nothing  very  grand  when  we're  doing  well :  it 
means  fifty-six  hours'  work  a  week,  fifty  weeks 
a  year  (other  two  not  paid  for),  fifty  years' 
work,  and  then? — the  workhouse,  or  else  a 
sponging  sort  of  existence,  picking  up  coppers 


296    ONE   OF  THE    MULTITUDE 

that  contemptuous  youngsters  may  care  to 
throw  down  !  But  when  we're  doing  badly,"  I 
continued,  "why,  life's  unbearable,  now  isn't 
it?  And  then  they  say  you  should  be  con- 
tent with  the  sphere  God  puts  you  in,  when 
they're  drawing  their  thousands  a  year  for 
uttering  such  twaddle." 

We  were  not  quite  certain  whom  we  meant 
when  we  said  "they,"  but  our  disgust  with 
social  and  economic  conditions  was  very  real. 

I  applied  after  a  job  the  next  day,  was  suc- 
cessful, and  started  at  two  o'clock  in  a  kind  of 
attic  turned  workshop.  The  establishment  was 
rather  large,  some  two-score  men  being  em- 
ployed in  an  old-fashioned  Georgian  house 
with  twisted  oak  banister  rails  as  the  sole 
remaining  evidence  of  former  glories. 

With  nightfall  at  half-past  four,  the  snow 
came  also.  Poor  Howton  was  somewhere  out- 
side cold  and  hungry,  seeking  work  whilst  I 
was  "  doing  well "  again,  and  feeling  as  if  I 
should  break  down  at  any  moment. 

The  ceiling  of  the  attic  I  worked  in  was 
easily  touched  by  the  hand.  In  this  low  shop, 


HOME  297 

with  window  and  door  closed,  a  large  fire  and 
four  gas-jets  burning,  with  the  breath  of  two 
other  workmen  exhausting  the  atmosphere, 
depressed  in  health  as  I  was,  in  this  low  shop 
I  worked. 

I  had  a  bad  cough  when  I  saw  Howton  next. 

"  Well,  George,"  he  said,  "  I've  had  about 
enough  of  it.  I'm  off." 

"What!  going  home  already?"  I  inquired. 

"  No,  I  don't  mean  that ;  I'm  off,  out  of  this 
country.  I'm  going  to  Canada  in  three  weeks' 
time.  Make  myself  a  couple  of  boxes,  and  then 
good-bye  to  misery  and  England ;  write  to  you 
every  month  if  you  like;  but  I  quite  expect 
you'll  come  out  yourself,  if  things  don't 
change." 

The  three  weeks  soon  passed ;  I  saw  Howton 
sail  away,  and  sent  my  very  warmest  wishes  for 
his  success  and  prosperity  with  him. 

The  cold  room  with  the  leaky  roof,  the  lack 
of  proper  nourishment,  the  hot  stuffy  workshop, 
and  perhaps  my  own  feverish  anxieties  about 
my  relationship  to  God,  combined  together  and 


298     ONE   OF   THE   MULTITUDE 

threw  themselves  upon  me  in  the  shape  of  ill- 
ness, a  time  of  pain  and  peace,  which  left  me 
calmer  and  more  gentle  than  I  had  ever  been 
before. 

My  dear  friend  X came  into  my  life  at 

this  period  :  a  friend  to  whom  I  owe  so  much 
more  than  I  can  say,  let  alone  repay ;  the  friend 
who  incited  me  to  write  this  book. 

My  time  of  illness  showed  me  many  things 
I  had  either  not  seen  before,  or  in  a  new  light 
altogether,  and  so,  I  think,  through  the  dark- 
ness that  is  deep  before  the  dawn,  I  came  into 
the  day. 

I  went  back  to  work  as  soon  as  possible  after 
my  illness — I  could  not  afford  to  be  convales- 
cent— although  still  so  weak  that  I  was  unable 
to  keep  up  to  my  usual  speed  and  failed  to 
turn  out  work  quite  as  quickly. 

A  workman  like  myself  is  timed  and  watched, 
over  every  action.  A  day's  work  is  very  much 
like  the  journey  of  a  railway  engine;  certain 
stations  must  be  reached  by  certain  times. 

As  my  employer  was  paying  me  by  the  hour 
this  temporary  slackness  on  my  part  gave  him 


HOME  299 

occasion  to  think;  he  told  me  I  had  put  him 
to  some  inconvenience  by  being  ill,  and  was 
now  not  earning  the  money  he  was  paying, 
and  he  could  not  continue  such  a  state  of 
things. 

I  made  no  reply,  but  hoped  for  increased 
strength  and  better  times  so  that  I  might  once 
again  seek  a  better  job,  save  up  some  money, 
get  married,  and  "  live  happy  ever  after." 

On  Monday  morning  my  employer  said  he 
had  no  jobs  on  hand  to  give  me  to  do,  I  had 
better  have  a  few  days  off. 

I  took  the  hint,  packed  up  my  tools  and  left. 
A  fortnight  later  I  recommenced  work,  through 
an  introduction  from  my  friend  X ,  in  an- 
other part  of  London,  at  trade-union  rate  of 
wages  and  conditions. 

My  life  is  by  no  means  easy  now.  Work  is 
either  too  scarce  or  too  pressing.  I  am  either 
seriously  "under-timed,"  and  therefore  under- 
paid, or  else  just  as  seriously  "  over-timed " 
for  a  little  extra  money. 

However,  when  the  day  is  done  I  have  a 
place  of  rest,  of  which  Grace  is  the  queen.  It 


is  the  dearest  spot  on  earth  to  me,  for  it  is 
home. 

And  that  young  life  for  which  we  are  re- 
sponsible is  a  source  of  the  purest  joy  I  have 
known,  a  cause  of  thankfulness  that  through 
the  failures  and  mistakes  of  the  past,  future 
lives  may  be  brighter  and  happier. 

I  am  no  longer  alone,  as  the  foregoing 
words  have  indicated,  whilst  over  and  above 
all  I  am  conscious  of  the  abiding  presence  of 
God. 

Looking  back  I  see  many  obstacles  sur- 
mounted, tangled  paths  made  straight;  look- 
ing forward  I  see  a  rugged  path  along  which 
bloom  a  few  rare  flowers  that  make  the  path 
well  worth  the  treading,  though  the  way  be 
rough  at  times. 


FINIS 


Richard  Clay  &•  Sons,  Limited,  London  and  Bungay. 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

305  De  Neve  Drive  -  Parking  Lot  17  •  Box  951388 

LOS  ANGELES,  CALIFORNIA  90095-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library  from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


NON-RE 


MAR 6  20 


DUE  I WKS  FROM  DATE 


RECEIVED 


33d  University 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000  045  209     4 


